The Crow: No Rest for the Wicked
by RavenNoJutsu
Summary: It has been eighteen years since Eric Draven had come back from the dead to avenge himself as well as his beloved Shelly Webster. Tonight, the resurrection shall begin anew. She is a force to be reckoned with. Rated M for content, nothing too graphic though.
1. Say a Prayer for Me

**Author's Note:** First off, I do not own The Crow. Second off, I don't like the movie sequels, so this fic will be disregarding them. It takes place eighteen years after the first one. Third off, this is not my first Crow fanfic, I had previously written another one and then took it off, but I decided to start fresh. Fourth and final off, hope you enjoy!

* * *

 ** _The Crow: No Rest for the Wicked_**

* * *

"She it is, she, that found me

In the morphia honeymoon;

With silk and steel she bound me

In her poisonous milk she drowned me,

Even now her arms surround me."

— Aleister Crowley.

* * *

Detective Marissa Louise Dalle had a long night at work and she was ready to go home. She started up the car with the radio on belting out rock music on her favorite station. She took out a cigarette and a lighter to take a few puffs before throwing it out the window. She took a left turn to The Pit, her favorite bar.

 _Maybe a drink will take the edge off._ Dalle thought as she reeled over the events that took place tonight.

 _Two young women were found battered and broken and left for dead out on East Jesus Nowhere in Michigan. The trucker who found them called the police. Dalle was called into the scene for an investigation. It looked like one of the girls tried to fight off whoever attacked her, but apparently, there were too many, too fast. She was struggling for movement, but she was holding the other girl's hand and trying to comfort that girl who lay motionless beside her. There was blood everywhere, so one of the first priorities was calling the paramedics to make sure the young women would be in good hands. Unfortunately, the motionless girl was pronounced Dead on Arrival and the other girl would not let go of her, reacting violently when they tried to have her let go of the dead girl's hand._

 _One thing that was odd about this entire thing was that there was a crow (or raven?) standing over the girl. The paramedics shooed the bird away once they managed to put the surviving girl in the ambulance, but the bird followed the ambulance car all the way to the hospital. Dalle arrived at the hospital in time but was stopped by one of the doctors._

 _She identified herself as a detective and identified the reason for visiting the unknown patient._

 _"I'm sorry, but she won't be of much help even if she was cooperative." The doctor said sadly._

 _"What do you mean 'Won't be of much help'?" Dalle asked._

 _"The patient has suffered brain damage. We don't know how extensive it is, but it doesn't look good. We had asked her four simple questions: Who are you? Where are you? What day is it? What were you doing? She said the same thing over and over." She answered._

 _"What exactly did she say?" Dalle asked, dreading the answer._

 _"When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs."_

Dear God, _Dalle thought, as she asked,_ _"May I see how she's doing right now?"_

 _"Five minutes."_

 _"Okay." Dalle said as the doctor lead her to the room where the patient was being kept._

 _There in the hospital bed, a young woman, possibly in her late twenties/early thirties lay suffering, with bruises, cuts, and burns all over. The major ones were bandaged up. her long hair was blonde, but had black tips at the ends. She was laden with tattoos on her arms, chest, and god knows where else. She glared at Dalle and said "When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs."_

 _"I'm sorry about what happened to you and your friend-"_

 _"When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs."_

 _"I know it must be hard-"_

 _"When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs." The girl said louder, beginning to shake violently._

 _"I promise I will do everything in my power to do what-"_

 _"When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs!" The girl shouted, grabbing the closest item near her, which was a foam cup with ice in it and throwing it across the room, hitting the wall where Dalle was._

 _The nurses entered the room where they tried to put her under control While Dalle was escorted out of the room by the same doctor she talked to._

 _"If anything else happens, you'll be the first to know." The doctor informed Dalle as she handed her the hospital contact number._

 _"Thank you." Dalle said as she left to go back to her car._

 _Outside, as Dalle pressed the button on the car key remote and approached her car, she heard a caw and found that same crow on top of her car._

 _"Hi bird." Dalle said to it. "Your friend's not doing too good."_

 _The crow billowed out a loud "CAAAAAW!" that sounded mournful and Dalle could not help but feel sorry for it. The crow then flew off somewhere and Dalle didn't think to look where it was headed. She opened her car door, started the car and drove away from the hospital._

* * *

Dalle could still picture the girl's angry face in her mind. It was as if she was angry at more than just Dalle, as if her pain went back years ago. But since she was the only one available, she took it out on her. Anger, mixed with pain, sadness and god knows what else.

 _What has that girl gone through that made her like that?_ Dalle wondered to herself as she made a turn and drove into the parking lot where The Pit was. Once she got out of the car she got out her pepper spray. One downside to her favorite bar was that it was in a bad part of town. Luckily, there were no leches out for the moment as she came in.

"Hey Detective." The bartender greeted. He was a graying aged man who looked like he'd seen more than his fair share of bad things happening over the years.

"Hey Lars." Dalle greeted back.

"So what'll it be? The usual?" The bartender, now named Lars asked.

"You know me all too well." Dalle laughed.

"Comin' right up!" Lars said as he pulled out a pint glass and filled it with a beer on tap and handed it to Dalle.

"Thanks. Keep the change" Dalle said as she handed out a ten dollar bill to the bartender.

"So, How was your day?" Lars asked, taking the money.

"Alright, I guess. Investigating a homicide." Dalle answered as she started to drink.

"Already?"

"Two young women. One dead, the other in the hospital. Doesn't look like the typical 'mugging a lady' crime. Looks like whoever did that took time out of their day for full on torture." Dalle took another sip of her beer.

"Well, shit!"

"Tell me about it." Dalle lit up another cigarette to puff.

"Is the surviving girl ok?"

"She's awake, but her speech is kinda limited to just one sentence. 'When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs', something like that."

"Wait, that sounds familiar, but it's on the tip of my tongue."

"Well, if it starts coming back to you, let me know. Any information you can give me helps." As Dalle finished her beer, she grabbed a napkin and a pen and wrote her number and gave it to Lars.

"Thanks. Good night."

"You too." Dalle replied as she grabbed her jacket and purse and left the bar.

* * *

Dalle yawned as she took the long route home because the usual shortcut was under construction. She was tired and could use a very long nap. The beer didn't help much except for making her more tired than she should be. Once she got home, she would be ready to crash.

 _Riiing!_ Dalle checked her phone: It was the hospital number that was given to her.

"Hello?" She answered.

"Is this Detective Marissa Dalle?" The caller asked.

"Yes. You calling about the girl patient admitted here a while ago?"

"Yes. I'm afraid we've got some bad news."

"What is it?"

"This patient's head injury wasn't what we hoped for. It was much worse."

Dalle could feel her stomach fall faster the more news she got.

"Apparently, it was what we call an epidural hematoma. It was already bleeding badly. We were going to fix it, but, it was already too late. She didn't make it."

"Okay. Thanks." Dalle said in a monotone voice as she hung up, thinking about nothing but the girl as she drove the rest of the way home. If she was not distracted by the bad news along with driving, she would have noticed something even stranger than what she thought she had seen in the new now-double homicide. It was a woman in a tattered black Victorian mourning dress, her face obscured by an equally tattered hood from an equally tattered cloak, a deer skull painted with black markings adorning her head. Her hair tousled and messed up and holding a crow on her arm. This Woman in Black turned her head to see Dalle driving her car further and further until it was out of view.

* * *

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	2. This Chapter is Not for the Living

**Author's Note:** I do not own The Crow.

Also, some trigger warnings here in bold: self-harm, attempted suicide, implied death of a child, implied abuse.

* * *

 _ **The Crow: No Rest for the Wicked**_

* * *

She is made. She is deliberately forged by something mysterious. She is created for a purpose. She spends all her life seeking, for there is nothing else worth doing. She peers and gazes until she falls from the edge of the world, and into the next. Over and over. Each time she returns, she is a little different. What she sees must change her. She dies every day. She is reborn in every moment. Can you even begin to fathom the terror and the faith commanded from such a being? Can you even begin to understand what such a life can do?

\- Alison Nappi

* * *

 _A Year Later..._

 _Thirteen hours left..._

Dalle had left the flower shop, violets in hand, along with some white lilies, walked back to her car, pressing the car key beeper to unlock it.

Ever since that day, Dalle had made it a point to visit the roadside grave where the unidentified girl who died in the hospital was buried. After that, there had been a constructed image of her in hopes that anybody could come forward and claim these two young women and figure out their identities. But alas, no one did. With that, they had both been dubbed "Jane Does of Raven's Highway" Mostly because of the "raven" that was watching over them both which had become a nuisance to the people who were intruding into the crime scene. If this case could not get any more stranger, the body of the girl who was dead on arrival, had somehow "mysteriously" disappeared. No signs of a break-in, no signs of smuggling or theft, nothing.

 _"What do you mean 'The body just wasn't there'?" Dalle was pretty peeved by this point as she had a headache._

 _"It just wasn't there." The coroner repeated._

 _"Are you sure you didn't misplace her or something?" Dalle asked, irritably._

 _"I've looked everywhere, twice." The coroner answered._

 _"Well, she didn't just up and walk away now, did she?"_

Despite this happening, the girl was autopsied beforehand, as was the hospital girl. Since no one was there to claim the body, the hospital took it upon themselves to give her a decent burial and funeral. Besides Dalle, the doctor who was caring for her as well as a couple nurses attended the wake.

It was so beautiful, Dalle thought as she got out of her car after parking it. She first made a stop to the cemetery where her daughter's grave was. It had been a long time since she had visited that place anyway.

It was a headstone with a beautiful angel carved near it. The name engraved on it read the name:

 _Kristi Marie Dalle_

 _Beloved daughter_

 _She will be missed_

Dalle laid the lilies upon Kristi's grave as tears fell out of her eyes.

 _This isn't fair,_ She thought. _I'm the mother, I am supposed to go first, Why?_

Kristi was only nineteen when she died. The police had found her beaten, assaulted, and near dead. She was taken to the hospital but they couldn't do anything more. She fell in a coma which she never woke up from. She had suspected, no she knew that Damian and his gang were responsible, but there was no proof of anything and thus, her case went cold and they got away with murder. Dalle could not bear to visit Kristi's grave when her killer(s) were free. If she wasn't bound by the law, she would hunt them down and kill them herself. Dalle walked away before more self-destructive thoughts would be able to form in her head.

She then walked back to the car and drove to the roadside memorial plot where the young woman was buried. She walked over to the grave where she was headed to, knelt down and laid a bouquet of violets upon the grave. It was inscribed in plain lettering: _Jane Doe of Raven's Highway._

Dalle pressed two fingers to her lips and reached her hand to the headstone to touch it.

"Hope you like violets." Dalle sadly said to the grave.

She then stood back up and walked away, back to her car, failing to notice the Woman in Black and the crow lurking in the shadows behind.

* * *

 _Seven hours left..._

"Sooo, baby, you down for a three way?" A scraggly, not-so-good-looking man was trying his best to act suave around a young redheaded woman half his age who had clearly looked uncomfortable.

"Uhhh, I-I already, well, you know, have a boyfriend." The redhead responded, showing him her birthstone ring in an attempt to deter the lech without him turning violent, which was what he looked like he would do.

"Aye, Caliber!" An older, more conservatively dressed man appeared to the man.

"Dude! I'm tryin'a get laid tonigh-" Caliber, whom the man was called now, said, but when he turned his head, the girl was gone.

"Goddammit! Now see what you did! You scared her off, Damian!" Caliber was pissed that yet another one of his "quests", ended in failure.

"What is it with you and 'getting laid'? You'd think that being a gang-banger, you'd have more on your mind than just sex. Besides, she probably used my coming up here as an opportunity to split." The older man, now called Damian said.

Caliber grumbled in begrudge.

"So, now that I got your complete and undivided attention, we can talk about more important things." Damian felt the need to emphasize the words "more" and "important" in order to get through to the unkempt man.

"Such as?" Caliber asked, annoyed.

"Patience boy, let's not get too ahead of ourselves." Damian answered.

"What?" Caliber was getting more curious now.

"If you want to know that bad Cal, it's an event of mass chaos."

"That's all? I mean, what kind of mass chaos?"

"It's high time we reclaim our power here and the undesirables realize their place in this godforsaken babylonic hellhole they call a city." Damian was getting all too excited about it.

Now it was time for Caliber to play straight man. "Have you ever heard of what happened last time that was attempted?"

Damian snapped out of his euphoria. "Oh yes, the fate of a man they called Top Dollar. The man who started Devil's Night. Officially, he killed his own men and then committed suicide on the horns of a gargoyle."

"Well, what I heard was that it was some weird dead revenant zombie guy in Pierrot face paint that killed him and all his men. I think his name was Eric Draven, or something like that."

"Caliber boy, we are not Top Dollar. We do not make his mistakes, and furthermore, there is no such thing as a revenant zombie. Especially one that would wear Pierrot-face. Besides, I always have a few aces up my sleeve to prevent any plans from going awry." With that, another man appeared out of nowhere.

"Speak of the Devil!" Damian quipped.

This man was more stern faced, but he dressed as conservatively as Damian did, minus the eccentricity.

"Good evening Ace." Both Damian and Caliber greeted.

"Good evening men. Call your pals over Caliber, it's time for a meeting." The man named Ace announced.

Caliber nodded. "Jackal! Envy! Blaze! Mastodon!" He called out his men and they appeared.

One of the men wore a mask which looked like a demon skull with fur covering the back of his head. He was not much of a talker, more of a listener and do-as-you're-told kind of man. Another man was decked out in tattoos, his teeth were filed sharp, and his tongue bifurcated, only a few examples of his many body modifications, making him look somewhat similar to a half-Grim Reaper, half-man. The third man looked like he was jacked and beefy, with long, dark hair down to his shoulders, but otherwise looked and dressed like your typical run-of-the-mill thug. The fourth and final man was absurdly tall and more brutish than the third, but he was bald headed, with many facial piercings.

"We got us a meeting you guys."

"Hardly even a meetin' when 'ya got just seven guys here." The tattooed man deadpanned.

"Envy, you have so much to learn from this experience." Damian chided.

Envy, the aforementioned tattooed man, scoffed. _He's so full of it._

"What exactly did you want us all here for?" The muscular man asked, hoping that his boss doesn't get sidetracked with a lecture.

"We have things to do, Blaze." Ace replied to the man.

"If everything runs smoothly, all the pieces will fall into place." Damian chimed in.

"We need a chaotic event to put this wretched hive under our absolute control, and we need new blood for it. That is Jackal's job." Ace pointed to the skull-masked man.

Jackal nodded silently, but in agreement.

"Alright, but where we gonna get the money? Shit costs money." Blaze asked.

"That's where Dolph comes in." Damian answered.

"Dolph the expensive weapons dealer? I thought you couldn't get him." Caliber asked.

"We have him through a friend of a friend of a friend." Ace answered.

"Dolph will be funding everything. Not just weapons either. It could be drugs, body parts, girls, contraband, pick your poison, he'll deal it." Damian said.

"Envy here, will be hiring up some of the old timers for the sake of experience. You, Caliber, will be dealing with Dolph and his deals, and Blaze, will be helping our bros learn their tasks." Damian informed.

"And Ace?" Said Envy.

"Will be the overseer." Ace replied himself.

"What does Mastodon do?" The huge man asked, referring to himself in the third person.

"Mastodon does intimidation." Ace said, mimicking the bigger man's speaking habits, unafraid of the consequences, much to his ire.

"And for good measure, I have a backup plan." Damian added.

"And that is?" Caliber asked.

"Patience, you are not ready yet. None of you are. But you will be. Until then, Tallulah is taking care of that." Damian warned.

"What if there is a sidestep in our plans? What if Dolph refuses, or we don't get enough recruits, or worse, someone comes back for revenge? Like that bitch we killed along with her lady friend. I don't wanna take that chance." Blaze worriedly asked.

Damian rolled his eyes and slammed his fists on the table, which startled everyone else. "Again with this Eric Draven legend! It is just that! A legend! Told. To people. To scare you from killing people! I'm sick of hearing it!"

Damian finally calmed down. "Besides, reality should be one of your strong suits, Blaze."

"It's just that, her words still haunt me, is all." Blaze said.

"She's dead now, that's all that matters. We now move on to bigger and better things. Meeting adjourned."

With that, the guys go their separate ways, for now.

* * *

 _Three hours left..._

A young woman exited a dim room, shut the door, locked it, and went to the bathroom. There, She ran as fast as she could to the toilet.

 _BURRRRUUUHHH! KACH!_ She vomited into the toilet. Much moaning and groaning was emitted from her voice box.

The sickness was caused because of her task of draining pus and cutting off rotten bits of flesh from his body-

"Oh no!" _BLEECCCCHHH!_ The girl vomited again.

After what seemed like a long while, she stood back up and looked into the mirror. Her watery, tear streaked eyes made her make up run. Seeing her own reflection remind her of her life that was drained from her eyes as well as scars littering her arms, proof of her self destruction, fresh tears poured out and she was sobbing.

I wish Nemesis were here. The young woman thought to herself when she remembered a time when a woman nicknamed "Nemesis" stopped her from attempting the worst.

 _"Tallulah!" A woman yelled as she kicked the locked bathroom door open and found the other woman lying unconscious and bleeding with a knife sticking out of her abdomen. She ran towards the woman and knelt down to press her hands over the self-inflicted stab wound._

 _"Neme.." The woman, now called Tallulah, uttered, drifting in and out of consciousness._

 _The woman shushed her. "Save your strength." She said as she got out her phone to call 911._

 _"Tallulah, why would you do this?" She admonished, but not expecting an answer._

 _"Damian..." Tallulah managed to answer anyways._

 _"That fucking bastard!" Nemesis' anger was apparent now. She hated the man for treating Tallulah like shit and wanted nothing more for him than to drop dead. Even though her anger wasn't directed at Tallulah, it stung her all the same._

 _"Never mind what that insecure dickhead says to you, alright? You are a beautiful woman who deserves nothing but the best in life." Her voice was almost crackling, eyes welled with tears._

Nemesis was the only female friend that she ever had in her lifetime. She had a really good taste in music, she created songs to play on her trusty guitar (Apparently, someone taught her how to play), she rode around on her awesome motorcycle, she knew a lot of fighting techniques (she was training to be an MMA fighter), Nemesis taught her how to defend herself, she told the best stories, mostly about a rock musician and the woman he truly loved. She also gave some words of wisdom. Nemesis had given her a feeling of worthwhile again, she was even her first kiss. Nemesis was the Tallulah's first female crush even though she already had a girlfriend.

One would wonder, why would such a benevolent woman be in a gang, let alone, one like Damian's? Well, it was entirely against her will. Apparently, when she was young, she had accidentally killed a guy who used to work for Damian. He was fighting her in the ring and she punched him too hard, he fell onto the floor and he broke his neck. She tried to revive him afterwards, but there was nothing she could do to take it back. She then fled the scene afterwards. The death was deemed accidental, but as Damian witnessed it all, he was none the wiser. He needed someone to replace the poor unfortunate soul who passed on, and it might as well be her. He never ceased to remind her of that, or the money she was paid when she did what he wanted her to do, as well as using Tallulah as leverage.

She had planned on leaving for sometime. Taking her girlfriend and leaving Detroit for good.

 _Good, this city caused her so much heartache for years,_ Tallulah thought, _I wonder why she hasn't left it sooner._

After she befriended her, Nemesis promised to take her along as well.

Unfortunately, because she had been an unwilling participant, Damian didn't trust her all that much. He liked control, and she would never give him any of it. It came to a point where was an actual threat to his plans. One night, Tallulah overheard the guys "taking care of the problem" and she immediately knew she was killed. The young woman cried herself to sleep that night.

 _She's gone Tallulah, she's gone and she's not coming back._ The young woman, named Tallulah's mind said, but her heart and soul felt differently, as if she were still here.

With her conflicting emotions taking a hold on her, Tallulah grabbed a razor and started cutting fresh bloody marks on her olive skin.

* * *

 _One hour left..._

The Woman in Black sat still as she waited for the new revival to rise. It had her reminding of the time when she herself, had a duty to avenge as well, crow and all. Of course, it was a long time ago.

Many, many, years before the city of Detroit came to be, she had devoted herself to and sacrificed everything she had to be with a man she was sure to be the one to spend the rest of her life with. Unfortunately, their time together had been cut short by her murder by three men. While she was killing the men who killed her, she was uncovering something sinister. As it had turned out, she, and other women before her, were taken advantage of by him, and when he was finished, he would hire hit-men to kill them. Realizing he would not have done the same for her, as well as finding out he was now targeting her sister, she murdered him as well.

However, because he was not directly involved in killing her, nor did admit to it, it was considered killing an innocent person. Her punishment was being damned to live as an undead specter until she had redeemed herself by guiding another soul to do their vengeful duty. So she wandered purposelessly among the shadows, until now.

 _Soon, soon you shall harness the power as well,_ She thought.

 _Forty five minutes left..._

The crow perched patiently on the woman's arm, focusing on the grave that lay before them. As a guide, he had seen many violent deaths in his lifetime. He had guided many reborns, and he used to be one as well.

When he was not busy, he watched over the young woman for a long time who had now lay grave-ridden. He would have never thought she would have to become one herself, he hoped she would not, he knew very well that despite the murderers getting what's coming to them, being an avenger was harrowing and dangerous to the psyche. He would know, he was there.

Notwithstanding, he is neither Fate nor Fury, and there is nothing he can do to change it, but it doesn't mean he can't influence her.

 _Thirty minutes left..._

Many many many miles away, a young woman clad in a simple white gown was wandering throughout the streets, looking for the one she dearly loved.

A year ago, she and her girlfriend were riding around on her motorcycle around town at night, but they were being followed by a group of guys with horrid intentions. Her girlfriend tells her not to worry about them, to not even pay attention to them. She would then veer off their intended path and take a longer route, but when she thought she had lost them, they would find their way back to them. Every time, they were getting more and more desperate. It had become a race for their lives. No matter which path the women tried to take, they would always be found. Eventually, they were cornered with no way to go. Her girlfriend tried to put up a fight, but these men overpowered her. Once they were done, they turned to her and did to her what they did to her girlfriend.

She had woken up all alone in a lit up, but sterile room that smelled of death. She analyzed her surroundings and walked off of the cold metal slab she was on. It took a while, but she was on her feet, walking in a normal pace. She was looking for signs of her girlfriend, to no avail. It was then decided that she would have to leave the morgue and venture out. And so she did.

 _I hope she is alright,_ The girl thought.

 _Fifteen minutes left..._

 **"People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it, and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back, to put the wrong things right."**

Those words rang true once before and they shall ring true once again, even in years apart.

For thousands of years, in every culture throughout the world, the crow had always been a beacon of divine retribution. When all other forms of justice have failed, the souls of the unjustly murdered look to the power of the Crow. A power so great is not to be underestimated, by the living or the dead alike, for those who wield it, emit such righteous fury for true love and true hatred that even the powers that be dare not cross their path. But, with so great a power, sanity can be corrupted. That is why the crows guide them, so they do not stray from their path and risk eternal undeath.

This revival, however different her circumstances may be, is no more different or unique than the others. Especially that of her predecessor, Eric Draven.

 _One minute left..._

 _Fifty nine seconds left... Now fifty eight... Fifty seven, fifty six, fifty five, fifty four, fifty three more seconds, fifty two, fifty one, fifty, forty nine, forty eight, forty seven, forty six, forty five, forty four, forty three, forty two, forty one, forty, thirty nine, thirty eight, thirty seven, thirty six, thirty five, thirty four, thirty three, thirty two, thirty one, thirty, twenty nine, twenty eight, twenty seven, twenty six, twenty five, twenty four, twenty three, twenty two, twenty one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven..._

 _Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six._

 _Five. Four. Three._

 _Two._

 _One._

 _Zero._

 _Wake up, little one._ The Woman in Black gently commands.

* * *

 _It begins..._

Her eyes fluttered open, but all she could see was darkness. She reaches her hands out, but all she could feel was dust, and cobwebs, in an enclosed space. All she hear was her own heavy, shallow, breathing.

It was then she realized, she needed to get out.

* * *

 _To Be Continued..._

* * *

Hope you like it! Read and review!


	3. Heaven knows we belong way down below

**Author's Note:** I do not own The Crow and also, I'm very sorry for taking this long, I won't excuse that.

One more thing, more **trigger warnings:** Implied abuse, suicide ideations, implied drug use, some assault, (Hopefully, not too graphic) and blatant violence against women.

Also, this crow avatar's name **will** be revealed, probably next chapter or so, but I'll let you guess in the meantime.

* * *

 _ **The Crow: No Rest for the Wicked**_

* * *

"I seem to gravitate toward things that have been touched - things that have been shaped … run down. Haunted. Tired homes, with wood that has been sculpted by howling, searching winds. Colored by years that have pressed against them, breeding a rich but aching continuance. And floors that have known a hundred feet. Paint that peels and says "Let me flutter away now". Hallways that have thrown their long shadows along each gathering speck of trembling dust that listlessly formed their shape along them, into small dirty banks of a million - Which tiny and large fingers and palms have come, quick, on hotfoot, to rub themselves against - Items that rock on bent and crooked bearings, with a lost - a confused purpose. Commodities sick with existence. Pieces, with something amiss. Jewels that barely shine, in a thick of their worn metal, several beads short. Pictures that try to show you, through lines and crackled layers - Tired eyes that say 'you can't imagine where ten thousand and more breaths have taken me'."

\- Helaena Moon

* * *

She spent what felt like an eternity in enclosed darkness, trying to blindly feel for a way out of the contraption, but moving space allowed little room for movement. She did not know where she was, who she was, or even why she was where she was. All she knew was that she could not stay any longer in whatever she was in.

 _Get up, little one._ A feminine voice said.

She still could not comprehend what she was supposed to do.

 _Push up on the surface, Princess._ A familiar masculine voice said, Wait, familiar?

She was confused at this point, she knew she heard that voice somewhere, but where?

She opened her mouth to try to scream, but nothing would come out yet. The young woman started to clench her hands into fists and banged on the surface to garner some more attention from whomever people were trying to communicate to her.

That same masculine voice spoke again, _Push up on the surface of the coffin. I know you can do it._

It frustrated her to no end. That voice was kind, trusting, paternal, and all in all, familiar. But she could not for the life, or whatever this is of her, recall who it, or he was.

With that, she banged her fists on the surface before her even harder.

* * *

The Woman in Black along with the crow, who was now perched on the roadside cross, felt vibrations emitting from the grave.

 _She's trying._ The Woman thought.

 _Come on, Princess. I believe in you._ The crow thought himself.

* * *

The girl continued banging on the surface of the coffin until her hands felt tired. She again started to feel around for any openings again. This time, she felt a slight opening where the nails still joined with wood, but some dirt was inside the coffin now. She decided to start banging on the lid again, except this time, she would try kicking the bottom with her legs and knees also. With a couple of deep breaths, she mentally prepared herself to try and ream the lid open, and pry the lid open, if need be.

With as much force as she could muster, she banged and she kicked at the coffin lid. The nails were starting to come undone. More dirt was pouring into the coffin. She decided to go ahead and push up on the coffin lid to open it, like the male voice said to.

She did just that, and it was working! She could not believe it. She was getting to the point where she would have to climb and get up and push the lid out of her way. However, more dirt was pouring into the space and she would have to dig herself out. She lowered her head, took a few breaths, and started digging, with more determination than ever.

* * *

Outside, the crow and the Woman in Black saw more movement in the ground, as if the ground in front of the grave was going to explode, but at the same time, implode. A dirty hand emerged from the unstable soil reaching for air and a solid foundation to hold on to. Another dirty hand soon followed suit, and soon enough, the young woman emerged from the burial ground, her once pristine, but simple white dress was now dirty, and in tatters with one strap broken in two, baring her scarred breast. Her once blonde hair, which was only tinted with black on the edges, was now completely black, albeit with a brown hue, because of the dirt caked in it. Her eyes, not used to the light of sundown, were squinted as she searched for any signs of life.

The Woman in Black approached her with much caution, as the attitude of a reborn can be very unpredictable in their early minutes of life, less so when their memories come back to them. The older and wiser woman reached her hand out, as if to guide the reborn, younger woman to stand. The girl reached and took the offered hand and she struggled to pull her legs out of the ruined burial mound. One foot became propped up on stable ground while the other one was successfully removed from the dirt. Still holding the Woman in Black's hand, the younger woman struggled again, this time, to walk. Her legs felt like jelly. They would not absorb minimal shocks from simple steps. It was so much, that she tripped head first into a puddle of mud. Her front was all dirty, her dress was muddy, and her face and hair was caked with it.

 _No matter,_ The Woman in Black thought. _Soon, you'll be changing your attire._

With that, the Woman in Black helped her up again, and the young woman stood right back up again, this time, she was more careful to watch where she was going, and she held on to her guiding spirit. The crow flew following the women as they headed to their destination by foot.

* * *

Feint, distant beats of fast paced music from afar, gunshots between cops and criminals, and fuel-running cars blaring noise filled the air during the neon-hued, night-budding twilight.

By this point, the reborn woman could walk stably on her own two feet. She no longer needed the support of dense objects, or the hand of the Woman in Black. Still, she needed to wash up, change her clothing, and find out what the hell was going on.

She looked around for any sign of familiarity or something that would spike her memory.

Nothing.

At least not yet.

She kept to walking, following the Woman in Black's lead, the crow perched on her shoulder.

 _We're here._ The Woman in Black said to the reborn woman.

The two undead women were at a big, but halfway decent, building, two stories long, the brickwork still fine and sturdy, red as the terracotta it was made from, its once-proud structure now in negligent disarray. It was probably a small Victorian house at one point before the economy took hold.

The female reborn walked up to the place, reaching her hand out to touch the structure, but apparently, this triggered a flashback, a very bittersweet flashback.

 _KNOCK! KNOCK!_

 _"I'm coming!" The woman said, hurrying to get her place neat and tidy as quick as she could while enduring a headache coupled with the pain of a bruised and bloodied face._

 _Because of her "meeting" with Damian last night, she had to get drunk and stoned just to get that out of her head and numb the pain, and by doing so, she totally forgot about the roommate interview._

 _KNOCK! KNOCK!_

 _She ran to the front door and opened it. There stood another young woman. The girl looked so tan and pristine and beautiful with little to no make up, just a miniskirt and tank top and combat boots, wearing fishnets like she used to. Her arm bearing a thorny rose tattoo. Her dark hair cascaded in waves around her back and down her left shoulder. Her neck littered with pewter necklaces, and punk bracelets on her wrist. Her face and nice demeanor reminded her of someone who was nice to her as a child, someone who should be familiar to her, but for some reason, she cannot point it out..._

 _And here I am with a bruised face, still wearing the same clothes I had on since yesterday, the woman thought to herself._

 _"Hello! ... My name is Elorah and I'm here about the roommate ad on Craigslist?" The other woman said, unsure of herself._

 _"Come on in and we'll talk it over." The woman assured, ushering Elorah in._

The intense flashback was now over.

"E...E..Elorah..." The reborn woman said, distressed.

She turned the doorknob to open the door, but to no avail, it was locked.

The crow flew over to the woman carrying a house key attached to a ring in his beak and dropped it in her hand. He let out a loud "CAW!" of encouragement. The woman carefully slid the key in the lock and turned. Finally, she was able to enter her own home. However, once she entered, flashbacks hit her like fists...

 _Wearing nothing but her black panties, the woman holds a knife to her bare chest, but she can't bring herself to do the deed._

 _"God, why am I so weak?" She asked herself-_

~I~

 _Elorah rushed home with a smile on her face. She couldn't wait to tell her roommate turned girlfriend._

 _"I can't believe it! I passed my college finals!" She exclaimed._

 _"Well, that's awesome!" The girlfriend replied-_

~I~

 _"I have something to tell you. I have given this a lot of thought, but this is my final decision." Elorah announced._

 _"Go on." The woman said, dreading the unknown with every word being said._

 _"I love you." Elorah finally proclaimed to the woman she dearly was besotted for since the day they met._

 _The woman was taken aback by this. Sure, she liked Elorah back, but the fact was she was older than the girl. Nine years older, to be exact. And besides, the only other female company she had who wasn't Tallulah was either a one night stand, some girl who needed the dough, or just a casual hookup, usually with someone who knew how to have a good time. Hell, she at one point had a female paramour, when she was in a relationship with a man. She had had boyfriends in the past, but she did not know how to handle a relationship with another woman, let alone a younger one. But still, her heart fluttered for Elorah._

 _"I love you too Elorah, but I want you to know, that I have done bad things. All in the name of survival, but they were still bad. Would you still love me if I told you every bad thing I did?" The woman said, narrowly averting her gaze in shame._

 _"Yes! Cross my heart and hope to die." Elorah answered-_

These were all examples of painful flashbacks, one by one, being triggered by every item this purgatory of a house contained.

However, the worst one of all was yet to come to her.

Just when the woman thought that the painful flashback memories could not get any worse than they were then, the Woman in Black grabbed the other woman's right hand and yanked it in front of her. She reached into her tattered apron pocket and pulled out from there, a set of keys with a silver bird skull attached to it. She placed it into the reborn woman's hand and stepped back a few.

 _This is what you left behind when you and Elorah were murdered,_ The Woman in Black said.

Before the woman could say anything, a newer, more painful memory had emerged.

~I~

 _The two women, bare as they were in birth, had laid down next to one another and for a moment, it was just them in pure bliss. Elorah was sleeping so peacefully that the woman could gaze at her forever. She landed a kiss to the sleeping girl's cheek before drifting off herself._

 _Unfortunately, it was to be short lived as her phone went "Ding!", followed by a ringing sound. At first, she thought it could wait, but then, it dinged furiously as the woman realized with dread, These guys still have my number._

 _She had secretly resigned from that band of lowlifes whether they had liked it or not, the same lowlifes who had branded her as one of them when she killed one of their own in trying to defend herself from him. Those same lowlifes who had taken what was left of her family, her mother and unborn sister, away from her because they were deemed "distractions". And finally, those same lowlifes who had made the last eighteen years of her life a god damn Hell. She even talked it over with Tallulah. As much as she wanted to save her best friend, she needed to worry about Elorah first, she even told her that, with the promise of coming back for her when everything was settled-_

She gasped in shock, reeling from the flashback.

 _She reluctantly picked up the phone and read the threatening texts, which were from Damian, Caliber, Ace, Envy, Blaze, Jackal, and Mastodon._

 _Damian: YOU MADE THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF YOUR LIFE, NEMESIS!_

 _Caliber: You will regret your actions, babe_

 _Ace: We are all coming for you and your little bitch girlfriend!_

 _Envy: YOU WERE FUCKING WARNED ABOUT THIS!_

 _Blaze: Bitches get stitches and end up in ditches_

 _Jackal: Kiss your life goodbye_

 _Mastodon just sent a random gravestone picture and texted: thats gunna be u !_

 _She couldn't dare to swipe for anymore texts, she knew enough that they were out for hers and Elorah's blood. She had to take Elorah and leave right now, or there will never be another chance at life again. She hurriedly slapped on unmatching undergarments, two stylistically mismatched black socks, a faded, torn, dark grey pair of jeans with a riveted belt in the loops that were strewn about, she pulled on her Hangman's Joke shirt, and her hooded leather jacket and her combat boots and finally, she pulled her hair back without brushing it. It took a while to think about, but the woman ultimately decided to strap on the gun holster on her hip and take her gun out in case she had to take some drastic measures to keep her and her beloved safe from harm's way-_

She flinched from the memories, but there was more to come. Much, much more.

 _The woman went to her closet and pulled out a metal box with a bulky combination lock._

 _Three times left, 2..._

 _Two times right, 1..._

 _One time left, 65..._

 _She pulled the combination lock open, unlatched it, and opened the box. Inside, was a silver beretta desert eagle with a red illustration of a skull in a black background on the custom made handle, a gun loaned to her from Tallulah. She checked to see if it was still loaded and sure enough, in spite of a couple of bullets missing, it was still loaded plenty. She checked the safety on it and it still worked. The woman slid the gun into the holster and walked back to where Elorah was sleeping._

 _"Wake up Elorah." She said, nudging her._

 _"Hm?" What's wrong?" Elorah asked groggily._

 _"Hurry up and get dressed. We're going for a ride." The woman said, she did not want to upset Elorah with anything that was going on-_

Rapid fire breathing had come to her in hopes of relieving those flashbacks. Panic sets over her as the flashback continues.

 _"COME ON, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! UGH!" The woman growled in frustration trying to get her archaic, beat up, relic of a car up and moving, but to no avail. She finally relented and pulled the key out of the ignition._

 _"What's the matter?" Elorah asked, now dressed in a black tank top and gray shorts with cowboy boots to match._

 _"Grab the helmets. It looks like we're gonna have to go on Ghost Rider." She said, gesturing to the motorcycle._

 _While Elorah did as she was told, her girlfriend decided to try her luck starting up Ghost Rider, the aforementioned motorbike. It was black, with purple smoke painted all over it. It was her pride and joy, one of the few things she did not regret doing. She had saved all her money up to get one. It was like the thrill of riding on a skateboard again, only with a loud engine._

 _Elorah came back with matching helmets the same pattern as Ghost Rider. The woman started the ignition and like a charm, it worked! She sighed inwardly with relief, but dread still remained. Dread that somehow, they will not make it out alive. She shrugged it off and motioned for Elorah to get on Ghost Rider. Once she did, they both took off faster than the speed of light-_

She muttered incoherently, begging for the Woman in Black to make it stop, but it was no use.

 _You must find out the rest for yourself._ She said.

 _They were out on the road, riding for what seemed like an eternity. It was after dark and the young women were no closer to complete escape. The pair had been followed around for some time. Elorah told her about two cars, which tipped her off that they were going to make good on their threats. This forced her to ride in different directions than where she intended to go. She managed to lose them twice, getting themselves lost in the process, but so far, they haven't come back. But the woman wasn't holding her breath just yet._

 _They might still come back. She thought._

 _All of a sudden, Ghost Rider simply stopped and sputtered._

 _"No, no, no, no, no, no!" the woman shouted as she tried to restart it, but it was no use, Ghost Rider ran its last legs._

 _"Shit!" She panicked as the engine died out._

 _"What now?" Elorah asked, worry now apparent in her face._

 _"We keep moving." The woman answered, removing her helmet._

 _The pair then hopped off the now-defunct Ghost Rider and continued their journey on foot._

At this point, her head felt like it was going to explode at any moment now. That would have been better than what was about to come next.

 _There could not have been a way worse time than then for the motorcycle to die in the middle of nowhere because the two cars,_ _one a dark red retro looking Mercedes, which looked in pristine condition, and the other, faded black and also quite older looking, but with red flames painted on it, and has clearly seen better days, had pulled up where the girls were walking. The woman grabbed her lover's hand and then started running for their lives. The cars drove a little faster to play catch-up. She tried running faster, but both women were exhausted and their feet would not have any of it._

 _The cars parked on the side of the highway. The doors of the beat up hot rod-looking automobile opened and out came an unkempt, sleazy looking man and his four cohorts: a lanky, but still slightly fit man covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings, another man in a leather jacket who also had body modifications, but in sparse amount. His muscular and shirtless chest looked like it had been elaborately scarred, his face adorned with a small inverted cross, a third man whose face is covered up by a silver skull mask with messy hair on it, and a fourth man, a tall, imposing, large, bald man._

 _The retro-like Mercedes opened up as well, and out came two men: one who was younger, dressed as an Ivy Leaguer, and the other who looked older and more experienced, his wardrobe consisting of a pair of pinstripe pants, a button up dark gray shirt, a dark red, almost burgundy tie, luxury looking shoes, his coat also dark, but less so a business jacket so much as a longer fall coat._ _A stitched up scar lay above his left eye. His hair black, but graying hair was cropped short. He had one leather glove loaded with miniature weaponry._

 _"Hello girls." The older man said._

 _The woman looked to her girlfriend and shouted one word: "RUN!"_

 _Elorah was reluctant. "What about you?" She asked._

 _The woman shook her head. "Run, just go. Don't worry about me. And don't look back either."_

 _Albeit with more reluctance, Elorah complied with her girlfriend's request, in spite of the pain in her feet._

 _"Alright, you have me all to yourselves. What do you want?" The woman said, defiantly, but resigned to her fate._

 _"Listen bitch, when Damian says you stay, you better fuckin' stay." The scarred man in the leather jacket man warned._

 _"Well Damian can blow it up his ass." The woman retorted._

 _"What did you say, bitch?" The older man who earlier greeted the girls said, in an intimidating manner._

 _"I said, Blow. It. Up. Your. Ass!" The woman repeated, pulling out her gun and aiming it at the man, known as Damian._

 _She pulled the trigger, but he ducked and swatted her aim away, with the bullet hitting the leg of the large set man._

 _"OWW! SHE SHOT ME!" The large man cried out in pain._

 _"Stop being a pussy, Mastodon, and come and help us." The scarred man said to Mastodon, who was trying to contain the bleeding coming from the wound._

 _The woman had noticed the heavily tattooed lanky man return with a bound and half conscious Elorah over his shoulder, because w_ _hile she wasn't looking, he took after her and managed to catch her._

 _"Good work Envy, here's your gold star." The Ivy League looking man said, raising his middle finger at the guy._

 _"Up yours, Ace." The tattooed Envy flipped back at the now-named Ace._

 _"You sons of bitches!" The woman shouted, realizing what had happened._

 _"We got leverage now!" The scarred man in the leather jacket boasted._

 _"You let her go! She's got nothing to do with this!" The woman warned._

 _"Or you'll what? Murder us all?" Ace taunted._

 _"On the contrary, she's got everything to do with all of this. She could easily ID us and everything." Damian explained, as if to a child._

 _The woman was really angry now. "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" She charged at Damian with all the adrenaline fueled rage she could muster, however, Damian grabbed and slammed her body down on the ground. Blood was coming out of her nose and mouth. Mastodon flipped her over in one swoop and held her down to the ground._

 _"My dear, this is what you get for leaving." Damian spat._

 _"You'll pay for this! You'll all pay for this!" The woman ranted._

 _"You should've thought of that before you first killed Jaguaro. Take care of her boys, I probably might have a turn later when she's less... Defiant." Damian finally said-_

In a violent rage, she tore off what was left of her tattered burial gown.

 _She could not manage to fight off a three hundred pound man like Mastodon, despite her best efforts as he undid her belt and yanked off her pants-_

"AAAAAAGGHHHH!" She screamed in combined grief, rage, and pain.

 _Elorah was thrown onto the ground next to her. She could only watch as her girlfriend was violated in horror-_

She grabbed the nearest item close to her, which was an empty mug, and threw it across the room, where it shattered against the wall.

 _"When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs." The woman repeats, over and over again, tears coming out of her eyes as she endured the torture-_

She flipped the coffee table in the living room over, the glass in it shattering as well.

 _Next was the sleazy, scraggly, leading man. He looked and smelled gross that she nearly threw up on him._

 _"Give Caliber a little kiss." He said to her-_

She ripped the undergarments off after, leaving her completely naked.

 _She clawed at the man in the leather jacket, leaving bloody scratches, he took out one of his batons and struck her in the head so hard, that blood was oozing out of the inflicted wound._

 _"When'ya gonna be finished, Blaze? Jackal and I would like a turn." Envy, the tattooed man asked in earnest-_

She tore up the cloth on the old couch with all her might.

 _They all were hurting the both of them. Elorah was crying and screaming for it to stop. Her girlfriend tried, and as a result, failed, to keep her safe. She could not go to her grave and explain this to her long gone friends that the child they brought into this cruel world will be taken from it too soon, and her doing nothing but lay there and watch._

She finally, after much destruction, dropped to her knees and curled up in the fetal position for what felt like hours.

* * *

While still clutching her motorcycle key, she had since sat up, her head resting on her knees, the flashbacks of the attack had since subsided. What was left, however, were only happy memories. Elorah's absence made them even more painful.

 _"Sabriel, this is my girlfriend." Elorah introduced her girlfriend to her older sister by five years. Sabriel unfortunately, was apprehensive about this._

 _"Elorah, she's too old for you, it doesn't look right." She said._

 _"Sabby, you always say that about all my girlfriends." Elorah complained._

 _"Well Elly, you always pick the worst ones." Sabriel retorted._

The woman again, burst into tears.

 _"I'm sorry about Sabriel, she's a little too overprotective of me. I'm the only family she has after our parents died." Elorah mentioned with melancholy._

 _"Your parents died?" she asked._

 _"Well, we have the same mother, but my father died before she did. It was when I was a baby." Elorah answered._

 _"I'm so sorry." The woman said._

 _"I never really knew them." Elorah said._

That was it! She had had it! "I'm ready." She said.

 _Are you sure?_ The crow asked. "Yes." She answered.

 _It's dangerous going into your mission not mentally prepared._ The Woman in Black chided.

"I don't care. They killed me, they killed my girlfriend, they need to pay for what they did!" She cried.

 _And they will, you just need to be patient._ The Woman in Black replied.

 _You don't even have to do this, you know._ The crow assured the best he knew how to.

The woman shook her head. "No, I want to."

 _Are you sure this is what you want?_ The crow asked one more time.

"If I hadn't had eighteen years of hell and servitude to a fucking demon and his cohorts, I wouldn't exactly be _un_ dead either." The woman sniped bitterly.

 _As you wish._ The Woman in Black said.

The woman stood up on her feet, and walked straight towards the bathroom. She was surprised her water was still on, but nonetheless started the bathtub to bathe in and wash all the dirt off of her body. Once she was done, she dried off with a towel.

She looked in the mirror and saw every scar that was inflicted upon her over the years. The vertical scar on her forehead, which reached up to the scalp on her head and crossed crookedly onto her nose, the most glaringly obvious of all. She opened her mouth to smile, but some of her teeth were either broken, or knocked out, leaving a less visually appealing smile. The woman looked very different than how she used to when she was alive. She fought the urge to smash that mirror.

 _You wanted the truth of what you look like now, and the mirror gave it to you._

She distracted herself by running a hand through her head and combing through the strands. All of it had somehow turned black in death. She didn't remember dying it all black, and it was definitely not like that when she was killed.

 _Probably just an undead thing._ She thought. She then decided to fix it by braiding some of it back, but leaving the remainder of it down so it wouldn't get in her eyes just in case she would have to fight, which was more than likely.

She picked out some black clothing for her mission. It consisted of black combat boots, a pair of form fitting leather pants, a lace up shirt, some black, fingerless, leather gloves, an old cross necklace, and a leather coat tailored to her body. She slid on a pair of black underwear and a bra that was sexy, but still practical. She wrapped her legs and feet in black exercise foot wraps. She donned her undead uniform. She strapped on a gun holster at the hip, a knife holster on the right leg near her boot, another weapon holster around her waist, over the jacket, and another one, strapped to her arm. She took a guitar string and tied it to the motorcycle key that was given to her by the Woman in Black, wearing it as another necklace.

It was time to put on her makeup. She had already washed her face and applied moisturizer, so she added primer to her face so her make up wouldn't run, or fade. She painted her nails black while waiting for it to sink in. The woman applied a smooth white base with the help of pale foundation, white concealer, powder, white blush, and eyeshadow.

Dark shade was added as a contour for ghoulish emphasis. She then used eyeshadow, both gel and powder, black concealer, and eyeliner to create a similar look to the very man she idolized, except that this was her own take: She still had horizontal lines striking through her eyes, as well as black lips extending into a smile, but the shadow on her eyes formed a crowlike shape, with the eyes serving as wings, the nose being where the tail was, and the beak pointing upward on her forehead. She topped it off with some lipstick and mascara, and sprayed on some makeup holder to leave it in.

She took a look at herself in the mirror one more time, liking what she created.

 _Damn, do I look good._ She thought to herself.

While putting her makeup away, she had stumbled across something that she had totally forgotten: an old ring given to her by a friend. There were plenty of reasons why she was willing to take this on. To avenge the loss of her love, the loss of her freedom, to redeem her good name, a lot of reasons. She kissed the ring and placed it on her finger, tucked under the fingerless glove it was on.

After a while, she took a lighter and lit a piece of cardboard aflame. She turned the gas on and with the flaming cardboard, set many household things on fire, and finally, dropped the charred thing. To her, it was the most empowering thing to do. The house represented not only painful memories that she was robbed of, but it was a casual prison that Damian had given her, among many other horrible things. It was a little bit cathartic to watch this hellhole go up in flames.

 _I must do him proud when I can finally see him and her again. I fucked up in my lifetime, this is my only chance to put the wrong things right._ The woman thought to herself as she exited the now-burning house, crow on her shoulder, and the Woman in Black following her.

* * *

Don't forget to read and review!


	4. Go for the Kill! Go for the Kill!

**Author's Note:** You know the drill. The Crow was originally made by James O'Barr. I do not own it. However, I do own this story, and many of the characters in it. I may or may not own one or two certain character in this story.

Another thing, I'm sorry that there was no Dalle in the last chapter, she will be in this one, I promise, as well as some others.

Oh, and one more thing, gotta put here some **trigger warnings:** Blood, mild gore and violence, implied past character death, implied child kidnapping, intense moments, and a present death.

And a couple of spoilers too.

* * *

 _ **The Crow: No Rest for the Wicked**_

* * *

"She was fire, she was darkness, she was dust and blood and shadow."

\- _The Assassin's Blade,_ Sarah J. Maas

* * *

A dark night set forth as the woman and her crow companion looked to find their first blood. The problem was, she did not know where to start. She knew what all of them looked like, that wasn't hard. The hard part was where they usually hung out, they never occupied the same place twice. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Do you have ways of tracking these guys down?" She turned to her feathered guide and asked.

 _Of course._ The crow answered to his undead mistress.

"Then why don't you try using them? It'll save me a whole lot of hell." The woman asked, flustered.

 _Even magic has it's limits._ The crow communicated.

"Well, can you at least do what's within your limits?" She asked.

 _That, I can do._ The crow cawed as he flew off into the opposite direction of the woman.

As she waited, the Woman in Black walked to where the female crow avatar to be stood, waiting.

 _I still believe you accepted this duty prematurely._ The Woman in Black said in disapproval.

"Oh well." The other woman replied nonchalantly.

 _That is your only answer? "Oh well"?_ The Woman in Black was not at all pleased with this revenant's attitude.

"I have an idea, why don't you try spending eighteen years of being told to hurt, maim or kill someone so you can eat, or have nice things? And when you don't do a very good job on it... Well,.. Trauma gets involved." The young woman snapped.

She continued. "Just when you think a friend fixes something for you, and your mother's finally on the right track, more shit happens. Shit that makes everyone you love, disappear like a magician's trick. And then, you try to run away, you find the home of a cop you befriended in your youth, only to find out that he passed away years ago. All you can do is blame yourself for that, and you have no choice but to go back where you ran from, knowing no one's gonna be very happy that you escaped. Your only ally in there is a beautiful femme fatale-like woman, and you find out her bloodline, well... Let's just say she's inbred. You live thinking you let everyone in your life down and your girlfriend is the one and only chance you can do something right, and even that blows up in your face. I accepted this role, because it's the only way I can make things right again. To be able to say to my friends 'Yeah, I did at least one thing right.' Do you know how that feels?" Tears started to fall out of her eyes as her rant ended.

 _Yes, I do._ The Woman in Black finally answered. _I just wanted you to realize what you're getting into. Even your friend was wary of you getting into this._

"You spoke to _him_?" The woman asked solemnly, immediately realizing who the apparitant woman was talking about.

Before anything else can be said, however, the crow flew back with some answers.

 _I found one of your killers._ He said.

"Which one?" The woman asked.

 _The giant one._ The crow answered back.

 _Oh God, that could mean only one thing. It's Mastodon!_ The woman thought in dread. To her, out of all the killers, Mastodon was the worst! He was absurdly tall, large framed, and strong. No one in the gang could beat him and he knew it! He also had a bad temper to boot. She learned the hard way when she dared to point out the literal meaning of his nickname. That was why Damian had chosen him, for his size. She had a feeling that if Damian didn't recruit him, he probably would be working in a freak show. Hell, it would be next to impossible to beat him even if she was ten times undead.

There was no more time to dwell as the crow flew out to lead her to her first victim.

* * *

Damian settled down on his chair, basking in the peace and quiet solitude brought him. No gang to lead, no Ace, no Caliber, no Mastodon, no Blaze or Envy, or even Jackal.

He picked up an antique book. The pages were worn with age, but still in decent enough condition, it had a gold chain with a jewel attached to it, the hard cover in red, black, and gold, but these colors have faded with time. The book's title? _The Divine Comedy_ , which ironically, was not funny at all. Nevertheless, it was a delight to read.

He picked up his cup of tea to drink it when his ringtone startled him. Almost on impulse, he spat out the delicate drink. Some more of the tea spilled all over the old pages, ruining them.

"Motherfucker!" Damian cursed whoever wished to inconveniently call him in the middle of his peacetime.

"What?" He chewed. He was ready to cuss them out over the phone.

"Did you just raise your voice to me, Damian?" The distorted voice on the other end of the line was not happy to see Damian's attitude.

At that moment, all of his anger dissipated, leaving meek, submissive, groveling to remain behind.

"Oh,... Leviathan! It's you!... What a surprise!" He blubbered out nervously, gulping. He did not want to displease his own boss.

He had never met Leviathan in person, and he (Assuming this person was male) always disguised his voice, but he always struck fear into Damian. One mistake could mean a whole lot of Hell for Damian and his gang. The murder of Nemesis and her girlfriend last year was one such mistake that got him into trouble.

 _Nemesis._ Damian thought.

That girl was a thorn on his side. She was always too high strung and stuck up for her own good. The only reason she was recruited was because A. She showed some impressive stamina for a kid when she fought off Jaguaro, her predecessor, and B. Leviathan had a special interest in her, and finally, C. When fighting Jaguaro, she killed him in the ring and he was one member short. When she was taken in however, she did not go down without a fight. She would always try to escape, but she would always be found by one or two of his cronies. She took a long while to finally break, but she did.

Her breaking point was when she tried to escape for the last time. She used her motorcycle to speed off to find a friend of hers, who was a cop. That time, they couldn't find her for three days straight. Only Tallulah was able to find her by chance when she was at the cemetery. Apparently, Nemesis had found out that her cop friend had passed away of a stroke. Tallulah was there visiting the gravestone of her mother when she found the distraught girl sleeping near a group of graves: that of her late cop friend, one of her mother and unborn sister, and two more graves of two people she always seemed to worship. She was brought back afterwards and was properly disciplined for that stunt she pulled. He had never enjoyed such schadenfreude in his entire lifetime and so thought she was finally resigned to her fate, until last year.

Tallulah, another issue that they both butted heads over. Tallulah was a parting gift from his own former boss for leaving to form his own gang and so, enjoyed her as such. All she had to do was behave like a lady, and she could have everything in the world. She would occasionally slip up, but that was alright, all she needed would be a reigning in and she would behave again. Of course Nemesis made a big stink about it. She even poisoned Tallulah's mind with ridiculous thoughts of "Real Love is Forever", or "It Can't Rain All the Time", anything of the sort. He hated her all the more for it and was glad she died in the most painful, brutal, way possible. He didn't care what Leviathan thought.

"As you were. How are the preparations for the Second Coming?" Leviathan asked.

"All according to plan, Sir." Damian answered.

"Alright, how is the man doing?" Leviathan asked this time.

"Compadre's still rotting, still bedbound." Damian answered this time.

"We need him in tip top shape if we're ever gonna use him. I did not bring him back to life so he could be dead all over again!" Leviathan exclaimed.

"I told you, Tallulah's taking care of that, he's her father after all." Damian tried to assure his master.

"I need more than just who's taking care of what. I want actual results!" Leviathan scolded harshly.

"I know that. It's just that these things take time and money and the resources are scarce here, you know, with everything that's going on here."

"I see. Can he at least speak to me?" Leviathan asked one more time.

"That can be done right now." Damian answered, to Leviathan's satisfaction.

Damian stood up out of his chair, walked to a very secret part of his living quarters, and approached the hidden bedroom where the aforementioned man remained for years, hidden away from the rest of the world. He opened the door to see the man inside.

"Compadre! Leviathan wants to talk to you." Damian said to the bed ridden man.

Who (or what) lay there was a figure of wizened stature. He had possibly once stood proud and mighty, but had weathered down to something more pathetic. His cloudy eyes harbored years of misery and pain of the torture of lonely undeath. His long hair, once an earthy brown, paled to a dusty white, thinned out, and falling out easily in patches. His skin, a sickly pale. his nails, browned and dead, easy to pull off at any time. A tube was sticking out of the back of his head, and two more sticking out of his abdomen, all connected to a breathing machine of sorts. He looked at Damian with such disdain.

"What the fuck do you want this time?" The man spat venomously, his voice croaking out with more baritone than ever before.

"Leviathan wants to make sure you are still functioning." Damian answered, ignoring the vitriol in the undead man's voice.

"Tell him to go fuck himself." The man replied with even more venom.

"Why don't you go tell him yourself." Damian said, handing the phone over to him.

"Hey Leviathan! Go fuck yourself!" The man's bitter anguish was seeping through his acid spats.

"That's quite rude to say to someone who revived you." Leviathan quipped.

"The hell I care! You should have just left me dead!" The man started to shout, tears starting to come out of his eyes.

"Then how would I be starting this? Look, if you ever want to be reunited with your... Sister,.. eh,... Lover, you will do exactly as I say. Otherwise, you'll be staying undead forever, Top Dollar." Leviathan threatened.

"Fuck you!" The man now known as Top Dollar hung up in spiteful resignation.

An awkward silence filled the air as Damian looked for a sentence to break it.

"Well,... That was... uh,... Quite the conversation you had with him." Damian stammered.

"Guy talks out of his ass. Makes you wonder why some revenant crow hadn't tried to kill him yet." The undead Top Dollar quipped.

"About that, I.. don't think that would ever happen." Damian said.

"Why not?" Top Dollar asked, half annoyed at the know it all Damian.

"Well.. There's no such thing of course. I mean, your report did say that you killed your own men and yourself."

Top Dollar chuckled darkly. "Boy, you don't even know the first thing about what happened eighteen years ago did you? A report is just that, a report. Of something from eyewitnesses. That cannot be reliable. I know what happened to me better than anyone else alive. Better than you, or anyone else here in this joint. And what happened to me was that a man they called Eric Draven singlehandedly took down all my men and when he was finished with them, killed me as well. In hindsight, I should have never kidnapped that little girl. But me, being a dumbass, did. My sister once told me that just because you hear it in a fairytale, don't mean it don't exist. I dismissed that, and look where it got me now! What I'm trying to tell you Damian, is this: There _is_ such a thing as a revenant crow being. Not believing ain't gonna make them exist any less. And besides, if the things you tell me, that the 'Nemesis' girl you killed is, in fact the kid who was associated with Eric Draven, you're in for a whole lot of Hell. That girl ain't just gonna let it go just because you killed her. No, especially since she knows she can always come back for revenge. Better count your days, 'cause they definitely gonna be your last ones."

"I just might do that." Damian said sarcastically.

"Glad you see it my way. Now get the fuck out of my sight." Top Dollar retorted.

Damian grabbed his phone and exited the bedroom, leaving the decrepit Top Dollar to his thoughts.

 _They never learn._ He thought.

* * *

The woman kept running towards where the crow was flying. The crow flew at an abrupt speed that it was pretty difficult for the woman to keep up, even when her own speed was inhuman as well.

All of a sudden, the crow stopped right in his tracks and perched on top of a railing belonging to a ramp of an old, abandoned building that was once possibly an asylum of some kind.

 _There he is._ The crow mentioned.

"Where is he? Who is he?" The woman asked, having a feeling she might know who this one is.

 _If you focus hard enough, you will be able to see him through my eyes._ The crow answered back.

The woman did just that. She closed her left eye, her right one missing and lids already sewn shut by the attack that killed her and Elorah.

 _Focus,_ She reminded herself, repeating the crow's advice. A rather distorted image appeared. It was of a bald man with facial piercings littering his face. He had an imposing, beastly, air to him and he looked freakishly tall.

 _Freakishly tall, freakishly tall, freakishly tall..._ She opened her eye quickly when her suspicions were confirmed. _**It's Mastodon!**_

She began breathing shallowly over this realization. She knew she would have to eliminate him, but she didn't realize it would be right then! Perhaps the Woman in Black was right in chastising her. Perhaps she did accept the role prematurely like she said.

But it didn't matter anymore. There was no turning back from this. Mastodon would have to be first, but then again, that way she wouldn't have to deal with him later on. Perhaps this was meant to be.

 _It'll be fine._ The crow said, sensing his mistress' distress, but at the same time, dreading what this man had done, and might do, to her.

"Yes. It will." The woman replied.

She leaped over the railings, ran off the ramp, onto the cracked walking, straight towards her first target.

~I~

Mastodon had just got back from his nightly routine of breaking pallets with his limbs and dropping the pieces over passersby, this abandoned asylum was the perfect place to do just that. He had always done his own thing like clockwork, so it was normal for him to stray away from the gang, especially Ace, the worst offender of them all. Him and Ace were like two repelling magnets, always fighting when they get too close, and only too eager to get away from each other. But then again, Ace despised anyone who wasn't him or modeled like him.

His height had always prevented him from relating to the others, he was always known as the Tall Freak since childhood. Because of that, he had very few friends, and even then, they considered him too weird for them. He had attained a bad temper as a result of years of teasing and taunting from kids and adults alike, even his own parents wanted nothing to do with him. It was bad to the point that he had thought that joining a freak show was all he was good for.

Then he met Damian.

Only Damian saw some promise in him. At least, that is what he said to him. With Damian as his boss, people no longer made fun of him, but feared him instead. It made him drunk with power, to have someone intimidated by him, to have the respect he so desperately craved in his youth. That being said, the rest of the gang, excluding Ace, had refrained from making "Giant" jokes about him, but they didn't bother inviting him to whatever they do either. All in all, they all were rather indifferent to him.

All, except for Nemesis.

Nemesis always looked at him with something in her eyes. It was part fear, as if she knew what he was capable of, and part pity, like she felt sorry for him. In all honesty, she had never, ever, made fun of his height, she would even stay out of his way, if passing through. He had almost wished he hadn't killed her, even wondering if she even deserved it at all-

 _No, snap out of it! She got what she deserved, and that's final! Nobody pities Mastodon! Nobody!_ Mastodon stopped his thoughts in their tracks.

The one thing that irked him more that taunting was pity. Pure and simple. He used that to rationalize her murder. After all, everyone gets what's coming for them, right?

What he failed to realize was that an undead woman had struck him with a surprise punch, which jolted him out of his thoughts and into the fight. She was fast and unrelenting in her endeavor, he had tried to hit her back, but she was too fast, and her reflexes were almost inhuman.

He grabbed her by the arm and then slammed as hard as he could, her into one of the walls of the abandoned building. The impact resulted in the wall crackling up with edges forming to create an outline of a crow. Unfortunately for Mastodon, it slowed her down very little, if anything, it only served to aggravate her even more. She brushed off what little pain she did have and charged back at him with much fervor as before. He was on the defensive now, trying to block as many punches this strange woman was dishing him as possible.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?" Mastodon asked, trying to get through to the woman.

"You know why! You were even thinking about it not long ago!" The woman shouted, rage apparent in her voice.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked this time. _This weird-as-fuck woman's not making no sense now!_

"You really don't know, do you?" She condescendingly quipped.

"A year ago, two young women were found brutalized on a deserted highway. One of them died right away because she could not handle the pain that you inflicted on her. The other, was in so much pain and grief, she was driven to insanity. Over the loss of the woman she truly loved, over the people snatched away from her in her youth, over the years of captivity, and over the shame that over whelmed her when she died as an unknown and a criminal!"

"Well... That's on her!" Mastodon said, unable to make a legitimate defense.

The woman shook with even more rage. "That is all you have to say? 'That's on her'?"

She charged at him with such fury, grabbing onto his back and holding onto his neck. Mastodon tried his best to shake her off of him, even slamming against the wall of the deserted hospice, but she had a deathlike grip that it was difficult. Meanwhile, she endured every painful flashback of his abuse from holding on to him.

 _He held her down and she could not even manage to writhe out of his strong grip, so all she could do was look away, like a coward-_

~I~

 _She spat in his face. "You bitch!" He exclaimed, slapping her face-_

~I~

 _"I think I'll take your little girlfriend here." He said, approaching Elorah-_

These flashbacks only served to enrage her more, and so she held on as long as she could. He finally tore from her iron grip, leaving a bloody, skin-broken, half smile shaped scratch at the right edge of his mouth in the process. After that, he threw her down on the ground, and began striking her.

"Who! The! Fuck! Do! You! Think! You! Are!" Mastodon shouted, delivering every punch as he said every word. He then threw her across the ground, not hitting anything this time. The woman struggled to get up as Mastodon approached her with malice, in an attempt to make her suffer. He grabbed her by the lapel of her coat and lifted her up, preparing to strike her again, but she had grabbed a chunk of concrete and hit him in the face.

"OOOOWWW!" Mastodon cried in pain as the concrete block hit him in the left eye area, forming a black eye with two vertical cuts, one above, and one below.

He let go of the woman afterwards, clutching his hurt eye, allowing her to stand up, albeit slightly unstable.

"The real question is: Why did _you_ do it, Mastodon?" The woman demanded.

 _Who does that bitch think she is?_ Mastodon thought. _Walking around and beating people up like she is the boss- Wait a minute,_

"How do you know my name? I never gave it to you!" He said out loud.

"It's me, Nemesis. The Ex-Member, the kidnapped girl, the girl you hated because I took pity on you along with fearing you. Or have you forgotten about me altogether?" The woman feigned hurt in the last sentence.

It wasn't easy to recognize her immediately because of the makeup she had on, but once the dots were connected, he began to recognize the painted face woman.

"You?... Nemesis?... But we killed you! You were pronounced dead at the hospital! How could it be?" Mastodon could not be able to comprehend the woman he helped kill would be standing there, un... well, dead.

The crow swooped down and perched on his mistress' shoulder. He let out a loud "CAW!"

Mastodon started to charge at the woman and her crow companion. Quickly, she grabbed a fistful of soot and tossed it at his other eye, completely blinding him, not that it stopped him of course, as he screamed and cursed and grabbed a hold of her and she started resisting and struggling to free herself from his iron grip. The crow tried to attack his face to make him let her go.

"I hate having diddly shit to do with the Second coming! I hate Leviathan and his orders! I hate everyone else! I hate your bird! And I hate You!" He ranted and raved, blindly trying to strangle the woman he was physically manhandling.

Things came to a head when he ran into a wall of an unstable part of the abandon building. Once he crashed into the rotten wall, the unsteady part of the place came physically crashing down on him, wood, plaster, bricks, and all. While the crow managed to avoid getting hit by anything, he was unsure if the woman had been hurt, or worse.

The Woman in Black appeared out of nowhere to assess the situation. She heard the ruckus from afar and wanted to check up on everything.

 _Is she alright?_ She asked the crow.

 _I don't know._ The crow replied, looking on worriedly at the toppled debris.

All of a sudden, the dreck was crumbling and moving. someone was emerging from the rubble! A closer look revealed it was the woman pushing away Mastodon's now deceased form.

"Never again." The woman quipped, brushing the dust off of herself. she then raided the dead man's pockets.

 _What are you doing?_ The crow inquired.

"Getting his phone. I'm sending this to Damian and company." She answered, finding said phone.

She turned him over face up the best she could. Blood oozed out of the left side of his mouth area, forming a complete smile. The woman took her finger and where his right eye was covered in soot, rubbed a vertical line over the eye, making him look like he was wearing crow make up. She took the still working phone and took a picture of the dead person. She then walked over to where she was thrown at and took a picture of the crow shaped imprint. She texted them to the rest of the gang, including Damian.

 _Ding!_ A text appeared on the phone. It was from Dolph:

 _Hey Mass! What do we need for Operation: Second Coming?_

"Second Coming?" The woman was puzzled. Mastodon had mentioned Second Coming, but she had never known anything about it. Not surprising, since Damian had never trusted her with anything. It was also the first time she had heard of the name Leviathan.

 _Is someone pulling their strings?_ She thought.

Another text from Dolph:

 _Hello?_

She decided to answer back:

 _Why don't we talk about it at your place?_

Dolph: _Alright._

The woman: _What's your address?_

Dolph: _Apt. 69 at Oldboy Ave. Across the street from Club Trash._

 _Ah! An old familiar place._ The woman thought as she walked away from the soon to be crime scene.

* * *

The gang was enjoying their privileged time off which Damian had allowed them. It was a time of leisurement, a grace period, for them. They spent that time hanging out at an alleyway behind a bar since their presence was never warmly welcomed at all. Not that anyone would blame the denizens, of course.

"I hate these assholes, they don't know what we're capable of. I hope the the event we plan works." Ace grumbled in disdain.

"Damian said patience Ace, just let them be all smug and smarmy about it. They'll learn not to fuck with us." Assured Blaze.

"Look, I want to believe you, but I'm afraid that our time has already passed." Ace replied pessimistically.

 _Ding!_ Ace's phone went off.

"Goddamn Mastodon!" Ace said in annoyance as he checked his phone to see what it was. He opened up the massage to get a better view of the image. _Probably a selfie of himself beating up someone, like always._

What he saw, was disturbing. It was a picture of him all right, but it was a picture of him dead.

Another picture appeared. It was of a body slam imprint that was shaped funny, like a bird or something.

A text appeared saying this: _You are all going to die._

"Jesus H. Christ!" Blaze exclaimed. He checked his own phone and sure enough, the same thing was on his phone.

"Guys, let me see your phones." Caliber, Envy, and Jackal all handed him their phones, they all had the same text messages.

Ace decided to call Damian to inform him of what appeared on their phones.

"I know. I have the same damn messages too." Damian answered.

"Well, what do we do?" Ace panicked.

"We wait it out." He answered with secret dread in his voice.

"Shit! Could something like what happened on Devil's Night years ago be starting up again?" Envy voiced his concern.

"I don't know. But Damian's right, we _will_ wait it out." Ace announced. "From now on, we contact each other at all times."

The gang all had agreed, uncertainty clouding their minds.

* * *

Tallulah lay in bed, thinking about everything that was going on in the world. She couldn't sleep, not with the loud noises outside, or her persistent intuition that there is an energetic disruption with the way things may or may not be going to plan.

She didn't really believe in magic, or energy, anything that could be brushed off as "superstition". Though, she was quite entertained by the readings her mother used to read to her. Hell, she remembered a very fond memory where she had a reading out of playing cards, imagine that.

~I~

 _"This, is your card." A beautiful East Asian woman showed a young Tallulah the Queen of Hearts. She placed it in the middle of the table, surrounding it with six more cards: the Queen of Spades, the Ace of Clubs, the Two of Hearts, the Five of Diamonds, the Joker, and the Ten of Spades._

 _"What's the Queen of Spades mean?" Tallulah asked._

 _"A Spade is the opposite of a Heart. Whereas the Heart is red, and right side up, and symbolizes love and life, the Spade is black, upside down, and symbolizes anger, hatred, and death. The fact that it is a Queen symbolizes that the person is a woman. You will be an influence in her life, and she yours."_

 _She continued. "The Ace of Clubs is rather, an ancient guide of some sorts. The Two of Hearts represents true love. Mind you, there are many kinds of love, it can represent any and every type of love. The Five of Diamonds represents new allies. You will forge bonds with new people. The Joker, well, when it comes to this card, nothing is predictable. anything that can happen, will."_

 _"And lastly, the Ten of Spades means there will be more criminals in the future, ones who will kill, and ultimately, be killed."_

~I~

She was always told that she inherited a family "gift", but it hadn't been put to very much use. Damian never believed in anything short of "practical". And maybe, that was why she was a skeptic herself. As much as she loved her mother and hated her father, it was a toxic environment, and sending her away was the best thing he had ever done for her, because otherwise, she would not have had a friend like Nemesis. It's funny, though, the way they met was rather, less than friendly. Nemesis was still a child then, she was very defiant and violent and would not cooperate with anyone, especially her.

~I~

 _Tallulah was told it was her turn to serve the young child some lunch. As she opened the door, a metal cup was being hurled at her. She ducked and the cup splashed its contents. She looked inside the room. It was a complete mess, the bed frame was overturned, the mattress was ripped open, springs and stuffing strewn about, the pillows were even torn up, with feathers all over the place. The breakfast that was served to her had not even been eaten._

 _"You haven't eaten." Tallulah said to the young girl, who only looked about twelve or thirteen._

 _The girl only responded by trying to spit at her, only missing by an inch, hatred apparent in her face._

 _"I know how you feel. I know it's difficult to believe me, but I myself have been taken from my family young as well."_

 _The girl did not respond this time._

 _"Look, I don't expect you to respond right away, or even at all, but at least try to eat. You need your strength."_

 _Without looking at her, the girl said this: "When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs."_

Alright, she said something, _Tallulah thought._ It might not be much, but it's a start.

 _"Why me? Why did this happen?" The girl finally asked. For that, Tallulah had no answer._

 _"I'm not a gang kid! I'm not a criminal! It's not supposed to be my future! I had a life! I had a mom for once! I had friends who gave a damn!" The girl ranted._

 _"WHY! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO? Why did you have to go and never come back? Why Eric, why?" The poor girl broke down into sobs. Tallulah was curious as to who this "Eric" was, but the child was stressed enough as it is._

 _"I'll be not far away if you need me." Tallulah said as she started to walk away, but the girl grabbed her arm._

 _"Hold me? Please?" The girl sobbed._

 _"Okay." Tallulah answered as she gathered the girl in a warm embrace._

~I~

The girl child had grown and matured into the young woman known as Nemesis, renamed so because of her vengeful manner, but she never lost that strong will. Sure, she had learned to do what was necessary for her survival, but there was something in that girl that Damian unsuccessfully tried to snuff out: True Love. While her and Tallulah's friendship at first was hostile, especially when she found out who she was, she realized that if she needed an ally, she might as well start with the first person who was nice to her. And so, their friendship strengthened. Nemesis was even the one to encourage her to channel her "Gift".

~I~

 _"Goddammit!" Nemesis said._

 _"What's the matter?" Tallulah asked._

 _"The psychic I visited had ripped me off! She said my destiny was in Los Angeles, Cali-fucking-fornia! Said I'd meet an undead guy there and fall in love with him and senselessly sacrifice my life for him! And all of it is happening in my twenty third birthday! I'm way past twenty three!" Nemesis huffed._

 _Tallulah laughed. "Obviously a phony! Hahaha! If you want a real reading, you have yours truly!"_

 _Nemesis was curious now. "You can do that?"_

 _"Well, I haven't really used it in a long time." Tallulah uttered._

 _"I think it's worth a try." Nemesis replied._

 _"Damian says it isn't practical."_

 _"Forget him! I'd like to see your input on my future." She insisted._

 _Tallulah sighed. "Alright, Let's see here... I see... two crows. One black and one white. Crows happen to be souls of the murdered. They are still watching over you, even in death. I also see... An angel who shares traits of both of them when they were alive. She is the one you give your heart and soul to. However, both of you are in mortal danger. I see feathers torn off her wings while you helplessly watch... I'm sorry Nemesis, I can't do it anymore."_

 _Tallulah took off and locked herself in her room, leaving the woman dumbfounded._

~I~

In that young woman's future, the was nothing but doom and death and pain. Her mother used to say this: "The future is not meant to be known outright." Perhaps there was some truth to that.

 _Ding!_ Tallulah's phone sounded. She picked up the phone hoping it was not a text from Damian saying he needed something, or that the man in the secret room needed something as well.

It was from Mastodon, or at least, someone who got ahold of his phone. She read the text:

 _I hope you are alright Tallulah. I missed you :)_

 _\- Nemesis_

Was it really? Nemesis is dead, is she? Or what if the story that she always told, about coming back from the dead, was actually coming true again? Or was Mastodon just screwing with her? If that was the case, How did he learn how to spell? So many questions rushed through Tallulah's mind, it was difficult to keep up. She had actually started getting tired over it.

Soon after, she had fallen fast asleep.

* * *

Dolph was puzzled at Mastodon's sudden spelling mastery.

The big lug never spelled a word right in all of Dolph's years of knowing him, now suddenly he can spell like a pro? Either one of two things have happened: He attained a head injury that fixed what-the-fuckever was wrong with him, or its someone else that was texting him. Considering practicalities, it was most likely the latter.

Dolph knew that whoever was on the phone didn't stand a chance against a weapons dealer like him. So he freely texted his address in order to lure the person in his place. It didn't matter to him, they would never be seen or heard from again anyways, as if they vanished into thin air.

 _Ding!_ A text read: _I'm here._

Dolph texted back: _Well, get your ass in here, you big lug!_

~I~

The woman was unsure of what to do. She had only seen Dolph a couple of times in her life, and he was never pleasant to be around. He was always so sexist, exclaiming that women are for cooking, cleaning, fucking, or popping out hellspawn, but that was besides the point. If anyone was a pro at making anyone disappear out of existence, it was him, and dealt a lot of things besides weapons.

 _He's not as threatening as he says he is._ The crow said.

"How do you know?" The woman whispered.

 _I just do._ The crow replied.

"That makes me feel a _whole_ lot better!" The woman's sarcastic reply got to him.

 _You are undead now. Use it to your advantage._ The Woman in Black said, startling her vengeful companion.

"You scared me!" The woman hissed.

 _All apologies._ The Woman in Black replied.

 _Ding! Where the fuck are you?_ The text read. _I've been waiting and waiting!_

 _Here goes nothing._ The woman thought to herself, keeping her guard up.

 _I believe in you, Princess._ The crow thought to himself as his mistress entered the door.

~I~

As Dolph hid himself in the shadows, his best knife in hand, ready to strike at any given moment, a figure who looked nothing like Mastodon appeared in silhouette.

"AAAAHHHH!" Dolph charged at the figure, however, the figure swept their leg out from under him and ultimately tripped him, landing face first on the floor. The figure then twisted Dolph's arm, forcing him to let go of the knife.

"Are we done playing Arrogant Army Asshole now?" The figure's feminine voice chided Dolph.

"You.. You're a gal!" Dolph exclaimed, distracting himself from the pain from his busted, bleeding nose.

"No shit Sherlock!" The figure quipped, as she tied his hand before she turned him over to look at her.

"And one who wears too much fuckin' make up at that!" Dolph felt necessary to add, pointing out the woman's painted face.

"I didn't wear it for you!" The woman sniped.

"What the fuck are you doing with Mastodon's phone anyways?" Dolph asked rudely.

"Why ask?" The woman snarked.

"Don't know, maybe... I found out Mastodon could suddenly pass the spelling bee?" Dolph inquired.

"So that's why you were trying to attack me." The woman answered.

She then wrenched Dolph off the floor onto a nearby chair. She took a look at his place and saw all the weapons and such littered all over the place.

"What is it that you want anyways Bitch?" Dolph demanded, only to get a rough slap from the woman.

"You don't call a woman bitch!" The woman berated.

"Well, Bitch, I don't know your name! So, you're gonna have to get used to it!" Dolph was defiant. How dare this woman march right in and disturb him!

"Do I now?" The woman responded, grabbing a high-voltage taser that was to be inspected by Dolph, aiming it at his groin.

Dolph let out a feminine pitched shriek. "Not my balls! anywhere but them!"

"Ask nicely then." The woman warned.

"What is it that you want? Mam?" Dolph relented, fearing what this woman was going to do.

"That's better. Now, to answer that question, I want to know what the Second Coming is, and who Leviathan is." The woman said back.

"You know what? Fuck this, I'm-OWOWOWOW!" Dolph stood up defiantly and did get tasered when he refused to answer.

"What is the Second Coming? And who is Leviathan?" The woman repeated threateningly, holding the taser.

"Fuck you and the taser!" Dolph shouted, no longer in fear of her taser.

"I see." Sensing this, the woman decided to switch tactics. She untied Dolph's hands, but then tied one on a chair rail, leaving one free before tying his feet to the front legs of the chair. She pulled out one of her guns from the holster she was wearing, emptying it of all the bullets she had, putting one in the chamber and giving it a spin.

"We are gonna try a different approach, and before you try to shoot me, Let me remind you that I can use the taser to your balls again, if necessary." She said, handing the gun to Dolph.

"If you don't want to play this game, you can always tell me what I want to hear." She reminded him.

Dolph hesitated for a moment, but then, slowly reached for the gun on the tale near them, and then, quickly aimed the gun, shooting her in the face, causing her to drop on the ground, seemingly dead, blood pouring out of the messy wound.

Unfortunately for him, the body was moving and twitching, slowly, but surely, getting itself up off the ground, the messy head wound, healing itself back up, appearing as if she hadn't been shot at all. Dolph was stunned, and above all, terrified, his fear coming back in full force now.

"W..Wh...What the fuck are you?" Dolph blubbered out, fear engripping him.

"I am your worst fears realized, I am decomposed flesh, bone, and sinew, all held together by my hatred of the lowest of the low. I am the Crow." The woman monotonically responded.

Panic rose in Dolph's mind. "You want anything? Whatever the fuck you want, it's yours!"

"You could start by answering my question: What is the Second Coming, and who is Leviathan?" The woman asked just one more time.

"Alright, the Second Coming is an event that Leviathan wants to orchestrate. It's basically a takeover of the city." Dolph finally answered.

"Why does he want to take over the city?" The woman asked.

"I don't know, something about 'Restoring Order' or something like that."

"Who is Leviathan?" The woman repeated.

"I don't know. We never see him, Damian never sees him, but we all take orders from him."

"I believe you, for now. But, if I find out you've been pulling me along, I will hunt you down and feed you to the wolves." The woman warned. "I think I might take some of your weapons if you don't mind. Along with that badass motorcycle you have out there."

"It's yours." Dolph bitterly relents, handing her the keys to it.

"Thanks." The woman replied happily, taking the keys. She then grabbed a black duffel bag and filled it with the following weapons: a sawed-off shotgun, a couple more rifles, a couple of knifes, including the one Dolph had on his person, a katana, a dagger, a pair of retractable batons, the taser, and a set of bullets. She later took back the gun she gave Dolph, put the bullets and cartridge back in, and placed it back in her holster.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something familiar: an old skateboard. She walked to where it was and took it from the wall where it was leaning.

"Why the fuck do you need a skateboard when you said you were taking my motorbike?" Dolph asked condescendingly.

"The real question is: why do _even have_ a skateboard in the first place?" The woman answered with her own question.

"That's scrappy stuff!" Dolph defended.

"Then you have no need for it." The woman said, stuffing the board in the duffel bag with all her weapons. With that, she headed for the door, but not before giving Dolph some parting words.

"Ta ta for now, Dolph!" The woman saluted.

 _Wait, I never even told her my name, how did she know it?_ Dolph realized.

~I~

The woman walked out to the motorcycle. It was pretty badass, The color was a black canvas, with metallic multicolored neon flames emitting from the metallic purple demonic skull. It had only one helmet, but it looked so sweet. The mileage was good, so good that she assumed Dolph never rode the thing. She slung the bag onto her back, and the crow flew onto her shoulder.

 _How did it go?_ The crow asked.

"Not bad." She responded.

 _I saw what you did. Good work!_ The Woman in Black praised.

"Thanks guys. As for you," The woman said, turning to the motorcycle, "I christen thee, Ghost Rider II!"

She then hopped on the motorcycle and drove off.

* * *

Dalle looked puzzledly at the body and back to the police officer. She was not expecting an interruption to investigate the dead body of a gang member! Especially of one who could easily take her down in seconds! Something was pretty fishy here.

"So, this is Ezra Jameson, also known as Mastodon, the muscle of Damian's gang, rumored to be unstoppable, which _obviously_ have been proven to be false." Dalle stated for the police record.

"Looks like him, unless he has a doppelganger or a twin brother or some shit." The aforementioned police officer whom Dalle was the superior of answered to her.

"Found anything else?" She asked.

"This was nearby." The cop answered, pointing to a wall imprint crack that was shaped like some kind of bird.

"Huh." Dalle deadpanned.

"Well, what do you think of it?" The cop asked.

"Well, I think it's a lovely yet simple piece of artwork." Dalle said in a mock art critic voice.

"I'm serious, the last time a bird shaped something appeared with a dead body, it was Devil's Night." The cop replied.

"Yeah yeah, some guy came back from the dead to seek vengeance on his dead fiancee, who hasn't heard that?" Dalle hand waved.

"What do we do?"

"I'll tell you what you're going to do. You are going to assume that the killer is living until proven otherwise, alright? Now get the two tons of dead weight out of my sight." Dalle answered.

"Yes Mam." The cop obliged.

Dalle thought this to herself. _Well, at least one of Kristi's killers bit the dust. Whoever did it, you deserve a gold medal._

* * *

A younger woman was prepping her last drink for the night for one more customer to serve before going home. She had had a very long day of work and just wanted to go back home to rest.

Such was the life of young Sabriel. It was all work and home. It has always been since last year. Back then, she had a sister to care for, before she rode her final ride with her no-good girlfriend. Sabriel despised that woman with a burning passion. Hating her for taking her sister away, the only family she had left since her-well, their mother and her fiance died in their place while she was at her godparents house. Their mother was hurt so badly that Elorah was born premature, out of their mother's womb too soon. And years later, she would suffer that fate as well.

"Sabriel!" A coworker exclaimed.

"What? Sorry." Sabriel apologized.

"Are you feeling okay? You seem kinda out of it." The coworker was concerned.

"I'm fine." Sabriel assured.

"Are you sure? I could take over if you're not feeling up to it." She offered.

Sabriel realized it was no use trying to convince her concerned coworker that she was alright when she clearly was not. "Okay. You can take over." She relented.

"Alright, just sign off, I'll tell boss you have Time of the Month Day." Both women laughed at their own excuse.

~I~

Sabriel went to her car after signing out. It was night, and she was really tired and wanted to go to sleep. All she could think about was her sister Elorah, and how her body disappeared without a trace.

 _"You're here to id the bodies, madam." The coroner inquired._

 _"Yes, I want to make sure." Sabriel replied. She was told that one of the bodies disappeared and no one could find out where she was. Sabriel assumed it was the girlfriend faking her death, but when the sheet lifted, it was the girlfriend, not Elorah. She was shocked, surprised, and angry. Now not only is the girlfriend dead, she doesn't know where Elorah is._

 _"Do you know this woman?" Asked the coroner._

 _"No." Sabriel answered as she walked away._

To this day, there is still no way she knows where Elorah is gone, and her girlfriend, well, is not. Yet another reason why she despised that girlfriend. All of a sudden, a masked marauder grabbed Sabriel from behind.

"You smell good sweetheart." The creep said.

"Help! Help me!" Sabriel yelled.

"No one can hear you from behind, girl." He taunted.

"Oh, I can." A familiar voice came from behind and flipped the man to the ground.

"What the fuck are you?" The would be criminal shouted.

"Your polar opposite." The woman replied. "Now get out of here before I kick your teeth in." The marauder complied and ran off.

She turned to Sabriel. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Sabriel said, not looking at the stranger in front of her until later.

Once she took a good look at her savior, it stirred some feelings of... something, unease, perhaps? Apprehensiveness? Most likely. but it was pretty negative.

"You remind me of someone I hate, but she's supposed to be dead." Said Sabriel.

"Why do you hate her?" The woman asked.

"There's a lot of reasons why I hate her. She was too old for my sister, she was part of a gang, she and my sister were killed, but there's no body to show for it, I could go on forever. But the thing is... When I visited mine and my sister's mother, she was given food and a place to stay." Sabriel stated.

"Well, Have you taken the time to talk to her, well, I don't know, find out her side of the story?" The woman said.

"Why should someone who joined a gang even have the time of day?" Sabriel spoke with prejudice.

"You probably would've found out that she was kidnapped." The woman implied.

"That still doesn't excuse why my sister is dead, but not found." Her resent was apparent.

"Wait, El-Your sister's body was never found?" The woman corrected herself.

"Yes, It was only her girlfriend's body in the damn morgue." Sabriel spat out.

The woman thought to herself. _Could Elorah still be alive? Could she be looking for me?_ Those were the questions that ran through her head. "Elorah." She whispered to herself.

"Wait what?" Sabriel apparently heard the whispering.

"Um, Uh.." The woman was flustered now.

"I heard you say the name 'Elorah'. Only one person says her name like that, and I don't like her." Sabriel confronted the woman.

"Listen Sabriel, I can explain-" The woman tried to say, only to be cut off.

"No! I don't want you anywhere near me! I would've rather been killed by that masked creep!" Sabriel exclaimed as she ran to her car and took off.

"Wait!-" The woman tried to shout, but was derailed by the Woman in Black.

 _Do not interfere with the affairs of the living!_ She warned.

"But she was going to-"

 _She'll eventually come around, I promise._ The crow assured the woman, who was left sobbing on the pavement in the parking lot.

* * *

The young woman in a white dress gazed for what seemed to be a very long time at the smoldering remains of what once was a place she and her girlfriend resided in. The place that was decrepit, but still home, gone, the charred remnants of what once was. Her working right eye welled up with tears at the sight of another dead end.

 _Why? You promised I could find you!_ The girl thought, dropping to her knees.

Just then, a bird flew down towards the young woman.

 _It's alright Elorah, you can still find her._ A feminine voice said.

"What? Who's there?" The girl, now named Elorah snapped out of her reverie.

 _Look to your left. I'm right here beside you._ The voice said.

Elorah turned her head and there, perched on top of a burnt surface, was a beautiful bird, shaped like a crow, but it had white plumage.

"You're a bird?" Elorah asked.

 _Yes._ The white crow answered.

"Where's my girlfriend?" She questioned.

 _Out avenging the both of you._ The white crow answered.

"Did she die? Did _I_ die?" Elorah asked the white crow.

 _Yes and yes. You are both revenants now._ The white crow flew out to close the distance between her and Elorah and perched on the girl's arm.

With her beak, she brushed the hair that was covering Elorah's left eye and discovered that her eyelids were sewn shut and a vertical scar struck through it.

 _Oh baby, what did these sick men do to you?_ The white crow asked rhetorically, as she her self been through something similar when she was human.

"Will you help me find her?" Elorah asked.

 _Of course, follow me._ With that, the white crow flew off, with Elorah following her.

* * *

The woman continued to mull to herself a couple hours after Sabriel left. She could not understand why Sabriel didn't like her. Well, she technically could, she would admit that she wasn't the very best of influences, but still, the feeling was not, and never will be mutual. She remembered seeing her when she was very little, when she visited her friends. It was usually once a week, up until _That Night._

She did not want to think about it. That memory was painful enough as it is. She hoped that there was something she could do for Sabriel.

 _If you interfere, you will become vulnerable. Any wound you recieve will not heal._ The Woman in Black warned.

"I don't care. I'm still avenging mine and Elorah's deaths, don't get me wrong. But I need my good bye with Sabriel to end on a good note." The woman said solemnly.

 _Alright._ The Woman in Black relented, knowing it was pointless to argue with her.

Before she could think about her plight any further, the woman then reached into her duffel bag and unzipped it. She pulled out the skateboard that rested inside. Something compelled her to take the old thing, but what? She knew Dolph had a habit of hoarding things like this, which was why she wasn't surprised when she saw his place was a mess. Why did she take it and not anything else that was useless. Maybe it was a clue to finding out the real her. When she was kidnapped, Damian gave her a new name that she was to go by. As she grew older, she started to forget most of her childhood memories, including her name. All except a few, but even then, she struggled to keep them. Examples were: When her friend came back from the grave and avenged himself, the last time her mother had ever lived, the cat she was given dying of sickness-

Suddenly, she was shocked out of her thoughts by something rubbing up against her. A "Meow!" followed after. She turned to look at whatever it was, and strangely enough, it was a cat. It had long black fur unlike the white her first cat she had, well, had.

"Meow!" The cat said.

"Well, aren't you a cutie? Where did you come from?" The woman cooed.

The cat meowed again. She looked for where the cat came from, but without success.

"I think I'll call you, Zen!" The woman said, holding the now-named Zen.

 _You know, it's pretty difficult to bring a cat with you to help kill your killers._ The crow said matter-of-factly.

"I'll manage." She said, studying the old skateboard.

But, when she read the tiny etching on the old skateboard, what she saw was shocking and unexpected:

 _Property of Sarah Monster_

* * *

 _ **To Be Continued...**_

* * *

Read and review!


	5. London Bridge is Falling Down

**Author's Note:** The Crow (the original story) was created by James O'Barr. I am only creating a fanfiction for it for fun.

Here's some **trigger warnings:** Violence against a child, accidental killing, finding a dead body, language, self harm, implied torture, gross description of an infected wound, and suicidal ideation.

* * *

 _ **The Crow: No Rest for the Wicked**_

* * *

"We're all killers.

We've all killed parts of ourselves to survive.

We've all got blood on our hands.

Something somewhere had to die so that we could stay alive."

\- _If memories could bleed, if dreams could scream_ | M.A.W.

* * *

 _Property of Sarah Monster_

Those were the words etched on the vintage skateboard. Unfortunately, this triggered another flashback:

 _The young girl ran as far away as she could from the scene of the crime she had just committed. She now had blood on her hands, however vile the person whose veins contained it was._

 _She ran back to her home and slammed the door, startling her sleeping mother._

 _"Mom!" She shouted._

 _Her heavily pregnant mother woke up from her nap and was visibly annoyed._

 _"Whatisit?" The older woman woke up groggily._

 _The girl was pretty hesitant to confess her sin to her mother, she knew she would get an angry lecture from her._

 _"Well, what is it?" The pregnant woman demanded._

 _"I,I,I..Uh.." The girl stammered._

 _"Well, spit it out!" She said._

 _"I just killed a man!" She finally said._

 _"You what?" The mother exclaimed, alarm and anger present in her face._

 _"I just killed a man." The girl repeated._

 _"Well, why did you do that? You better explain yourself right away!" The mother warned._

 _"He was forcing me to fight him, and I hit him too hard, and he stumbled backwards, fell, and hit his head on the ground. I tried to, but he never woke up.." The girl was ashamed of what she did, and the consequences that would come after._

 _"Oh god WHY?" The older woman shout rhetorically._

 _The girl had no answer for that, just silence._

 _"Alright. First thing is, you will have to tell the police! Say it was self-defense. Otherwise, they'll think you killed him on purpose."_

~I~

 _The girl and her mother were driving along the roads of the city. The crime had quieted down ever since the last Devil's Night had occurred a couple years ago. Since then, the girl and her mother learned to get back on their feet, and everything was going great. At least, up until what happened._

~I~

 _"C'mon you little shit! Fight like a man!" A gangbanger had stunned the girl out of nowhere. He punched her in the face when she wasn't looking and she found herself trying to deflect all of his crushing blows._

 _The girl was at her wit's end, this guy was high on his own adrenaline and looking for his next trip, which, unfortunately, she would have to be providing._

 _"Leave me alone!" The girl cried, falling on selectively deaf ears._

 _The attacker just laughed and punched her in the face again, blood oozing out of her nose._

 _"Now why would I do that? Jaguaro never quits just 'cause you ask." The gangbanger, named Jaguaro, taunted, referring to himself in the third person._

 _With that, he kept throwing punch after punch. The girl had finally had enough and caught one of the arrogant gangbanger's fists._

 _"What the..?" Jaguaro did not have enough time to finish his sentence, as the little girl had struck the bridge of his nose. This attack had stunned him both physically and mentally stunned. He attempted to strike back, only to be met with another, much harder, punch to the face. His momentum driving him to stumble backwards, ultimately leading him to trip and tumble over the steps, hitting his head along the way down._

 _The girl, picking herself back up, walked over to check on him. His sprawled out form had been contorted uncomfortably, blood still freshly oozing from the wound on his head, his nose equally as bloody, his eyes still open, staring at nothing. Jaguaro remained motionless, which was what worried the girl._

 _She checked his neck for a pulse._

 _Nothing. Not even a feint beat._

 _In a fruitless attempt to resuscitate him, she tried to push down on his chest, like the doctors on TV did, but she had given up easily. This was hopeless, she cannot just un-dead someone she just killed. She began to burst into tears,_

This is not the path I am meant to take, _The girl thought as she picked her skateboard back up, and ran back home._

~I~

 _The whole scene had replayed over and over in her head like a movie. What was even worse was that the cops may even question her, and god forbid, if she did something wrong, or not do something right, she might have to go to prison!_

 _Every inch of her being filled with dread at that thought._

 _A loud sound jolted her out of those thoughts, along with some violent vibrations reverberating throughout the car. The girl's mother looked to see the source of the sound and vibes, but fear gripped every fiber of her being._

 _The girl was filled to the brim with dread as well. she heard a smashing of glass and a pair of hands jerk her out of the car through the broken window._

 _Those same hands tied her up, blindfolded her, and silenced her cries with a simple piece of silver tape._

 _"This is what you get for killing Jaguaro!" A strange, male voice told her. She could only struggle against the binds of silence and darkness as she was hauled to another place._

~I~

The woman felt strange. Different. Depleted even. Though her name was scrawled on the old skateboard, she had sort of felt, well... Detached from it. Perhaps due to the fact that she was named Nemesis for the longest time, or she did things that Sarah Monster would never do, like hurt, maim, or even kill people just because she was ordered to, and work for a gang.

"I don't deserve the name Sarah."The woman said to herself.

 _It doesn't matter what you deserved or not._ The crow told her.

 _He is correct._ The Woman in Black said. _The worst can and will happen to the best of all of us._

 _What matters now is you are putting the wrong things right, just as you had always quoted yourself. No matter what, you have help now._ The crow assured the woman.

"You're right. I am doing everything right now. But I'd like to know where they put Jaguaro's body." The woman realized.

 _I can guide you to there right now._ The crow answered as he flew away, with the woman and her new pet cat following on her motorcycle.

* * *

The woman was led to a deep, grassy marsh in the woods of an abandoned part of the former Detroitian suburbia. There, she had another flashback that did not exactly pertain to her, but did involve Damian and Co.

~I~

 _Even with all five men pitching in, Jaguaro's body was still heavy for them to carry._

 _"Finally!" Blaze gruffed, still trying to catch his breath._

 _"Now comes the fun part. Hurling the dead weight into the gully." Envy snarked, wiping sweat off of his nonexistent eyebrows._

 _"Less talking, more disposing of the body!" Damian berated, despite not having anything to do with carrying the body._

 _"Hey I have an idea! How about help us and not jerk us around like that!" Caliber protested._

 _"You know I can't." Damian replied._

 _"Yeah, there's always something wrong with your bone spurs or some shit!" Mastodon aggrieved._

 _Jackal just simply shook his masked head in disapproval at the injustice of it all._

 _With all their strengths, the men had managed to roll the body off until it disappeared into the tall grass and weeds._

 _"See you in Hell, buddy!" Envy saluted condescendingly._

 _Just then, Ace appeared out of nowhere._

 _"I found where the girl who killed Jaguaro lives." He informed._

~I~

Feeling mentally drained from the flashback, the woman stalled for a little while. After a couple of breaths, she finally gathered some motivation to walk steadily down the marsh to find the body.

It wasn't long until she accidentally stepped on what she thought was a thick twig. She brushed aside the long grass and saw that the "twig" was white. It was then that she knew, she had found Jaguaro, or rather yet, what was left of him, which were rags and bones.

At first, she didn't know what to think. Sure he was an ass to her in their first and only meeting, but seeing his remains and how the gang just cast him off like that, like he was roadkill, made her twinge with sympathy. However, she hated that his death (In self-defense, mind you) caused a string of events that led up to her... Current situation.

 _It doesn't do you any good to dwell on what could have been. What happened, happened. You must accept the circumstances._ The Woman in Black appeared next to the woman.

She didn't respond, but she turned her head to her zombie companion.

"I'm gonna need a wagon, a bed sheet, a piece of paper, something to write with, a box, and... I think that's it." The woman said.

The Woman in Black complied and walked to one of the homes to find such supplies.

 _What do you need these things for?_ The crow asked, perched on one of the trees.

"Giving Jaguaro a proper burial, as well as giving the gang an old reminder." The woman answered.

* * *

Dolph had managed to escape his restrictive binds and ran as fast as he could to where Damian currently resided. It was a very long run from Oldboy Avenue through where Club Trash is all the way to Weinger Street.

By the time he reached Damian's current residence, he was all out of breath.

"What do you want, Dolph?" Damian asked, not looking at him.

"Houston..." He gasped for air. "We have a problem." He took a few more deep breaths.

Raising an eyebrow, Damian asked, "What is this problem that we have now?"

"Some girl..." taking a few more slow breaths. "Wearing all... black leather and makeup and shit.."

"Yes, go on." Damian motioned for him to get to the point.

"I think she's out to get all y'all, and I think she already got Mastodon."

 _So he saw what the assailant may have looked like. Hmmm... Interesting._ Damian thought to himself.

"Tell me more." He instructed.

"Alright. She took a few things. A lot of weapons, my prized motorcycle, a skateboard..." Dolph obliged.

"Ok..." Damian nodded. "What did she say to you?"

"Other than nonsense rambling? She asked about Leviathan, and our plan." Dolph answered.

"Did she give any hints to who she was?" Damian asked.

"Nothing, zilch, nada! I don't think even _she_ knew either!"

"Shit. If Leviathan finds out about this, we're all done for!" Ace panicked.

"Leviathan will. Not. Know. And furthermore, it is a simple mishap that _can_ be fixed. Do you understand?" Damian berated.

"Yes Dam." He relented.

"Good." Damian concluded, dismissing Dolph.

* * *

The already inebriated Blaze took yet another gulp of booze before inflicting another cut on his arm. The blood slowly, but surely, oozed out.

 _Good._ He thought to himself.

He had been doing this since he was a youth. Ever since his father always drunkenly beat him bloody, He liked the pain. So much, that his asshole father was creeped out by him.

 _Fuck you old man._ He thought as well.

To Blaze, pain was the best drug anyone can take. It doesn't require much, and there's no need for a dealer. It also kept his masculinity in check. He loved inflicting it on himself, and anyone else. It was one of the reasons he was thankful for Damian, who allowed and encouraged his habit. He especially loved having a friend to share his pain addiction to, such as Envy, even thought his way receiving pain involved body modification.

His thoughts were interrupted by a single knock on his door.

"WHOSERE?" Blaze drunkenly muddled in one word.

Outside, the woman was knocking, the crow on her shoulder, Zen the cat rubbing against her left leg.

"He's drunk." She concluded. _It'll be easy to take him down._

 _Do not think for a second that just because he's inebriated, he will be any more easy to kill. I learned that the hard way when I killed F- I mean, one of my killers._ The crow warned, listening to her unspoken intentions.

The woman took the advice in stride and knocked on the door again.

A stumbling sound along with several unnamed items shattering had occurred. "GODDAMMIT! ASS! SHIT!" Blaze yelled, his voice muffled by the thickness of the door. The woman giggled at his loud, boisterous swearing.

The door suddenly swung open. It was Blaze in all his shirtless, drunken glory.

"That's not piss! I spilt beer on me!" He defensively said, mentioning the suspicious stain on the crotch of his pants.

"I didn't say anything." The woman put her hands up.

Once Blaze took a good look at her, there was something familiar about how she looked, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"You here to give me my daily dose of pain, babe?" He asked, inebriation tainting his better judgement.

"You could say that." The woman replied in unamused monotone.

"Come on in then." He said bluntly. He then pointed to the crow and the cat. "No birds or cats allowed though."

 _I'll stay outside with Zen._ The crow assured.

The woman nodded and entered the dumpster of a house. Beer cans and bottles were everywhere. The place stank of only god knows what, and mold and mildew littered the walls.

"Welcome to the dungeon." Blaze said with a smile.

"Doesn't look like much." The woman deadpanned.

"That's my boss Damian for ya. Takes and hoards all the good shit and leaves us with the scraps. Stingy asshole." Blaze explained.

 _You're telling me!_ The woman thought to herself. He was right though, Damian does take the best things for himself, even girls.

~I~

 _"So.. I heard you have a girlfriend now, huh Nemesis?" Damian inquired with a smirk._

 _"What's it to you?" The woman asked discourteously._

 _"Well, you ought to let me see how she is, if you know what I mean, of course." he implied._

 _The statement however, set her off._

 _"The answer is fuck you!" The woman snapped._

 _She was suddenly punched in the face, blood oozing out of her nose and the corner of her mouth._

 _"You know the rules of relationships here, girl!" Damian growled._

 _"If you ever lay a hand on Elorah, I will kill you!" The woman warned._

~I~

The woman was interrupted from her thoughts by Blaze.

"You in la la land or somethin'? I'm ready for my dose of pain, babe." He said impatiently.

"Sometimes, pain can be messy, so I ought to put on an apron and gloves, and maybe, pull my hair back. Oh, and get something to tether you with. You can never be too careful." The woman instructed with a smile.

"Alright, babe. Just hurry up. I'm eager for my fix."

With that, the woman left. While she was out of view, Blaze noticed something.

 _She kinda looks like Nemesis. Can't be her though, we killed her._ He thought.

Before he could think any further, the woman reappeared dressed as she promised.

"I found zip ties. I hope that's okay." The woman said.

"Sure." He replied, anticipating what was to come next. The woman then bound his hands and feet to the chair and then pulled out a few select blades: a scalpel, a serrated knife, a hooked blade...

Blaze's eyes grew wide with every knife she pulled out. This was too much, even for a masochist like him.

"Alright, I think that's enough." He said, his voice crackling with panic.

Just then, the woman's cheerful look twisted into one of hatred.

"No, I think not." The woman replied. "I do not think that pain is a fitting enough punishment for you. You deserve much, much, worse, in my opinion."

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" Blaze was in full panic mode now.

"Actually, the question is, what _haven't_ you done to me? You raped and killed my girlfriend,.."

 _"Well hellooo... kiddo." Blaze said, ripping Elorah's shirt open, seeing she had no underwear on._

"You disfigured my face..."

 _"You look a little too pretty in my opinion." Blaze said as he got a vial of acid to do a little.. 'work' on her face._

"You shattered my knee.."

 _He picked up a nearby rock and slammed it down as hard as he could on the woman's knee._

 _"AAAHHHH!" She screamed in pain._

"Need I say more?" The woman asked.

Blaze's suspicions were confirmed.

"It's you, isn't it, Nemesis?"

"You talk as if you expected me to come back to life or something." The woman raised an eyebrow.

"So the legends are true. A dead person can come back for revenge." He replied.

"Right answer." The woman answered.

"Let's just get it over with." He sighed.

"Now where's the fun in that?" She chuckled.

Blaze then took his very last breath, resigned to his fate.

* * *

Sabriel managed to drive back to her apartment and took her shower and changed into her pajamas and after that, took her leftovers out from the fridge and microwaved them. She then turned her TV on to Netflix, but nothing was working to keep her from mentally reeling from what had happened.

 _Jesus, was that really her, or was it just some creepette who just happened to look like her?_

She could've sworn that a year ago, she had recognized her dead body on the morgue, it was even confirmed that she was buried in the same place where she was found.

If so, then why was she moving around like a living person? Why does she wear that makeup on her face like it's some kind of war paint? So many questions and so little answers running through her head like crazy.

Was it partially guilt? Not that Sabriel would admit it to anyone, not even God, but sometimes, she felt bad for judging the woman so harshly. Not just for her little sister's sake, but that woman used to be friends with her mother and stepfather to be before they were violently killed in their apartment by some disgusting criminals.

 _If that was the case, why did she become a criminal like them?_ Sabriel thought bitterly.

It was ironic because a year later, those same criminals were found dead by mysterious means. Officially, their boss had killed them and the rest of his cohorts in a fit of insanity, but when gossip spread, she constantly heard the name of the man who would have been her stepfather. That _he_ came back from the grave. That _he_ killed those men. He had similar makeup on, he wore black leather, and he had a crow on his shoulder.

Just like her.

Could _that_ be it? She came back from the dead to get revenge on whoever killed her and Elorah? It was all so confusing to her. Every conclusion she went to left more questions than answers.

 _Next time I see her, she owes me an explanation._ Sabriel thought, eating her leftovers and watching TV.

* * *

Dalle had responded to a panicked call coming from the address 1011 Darkman Drive. The lady who called had apparently been the occupant's uh... Dominatrix. She appeared a little late and ended up finding a pretty nasty crime scene. She drove over there to see how much gruesome it was.

Once Dalle got to the address, the word 'gruesome' was an understatement.

Nathaniel Dorff aka "Blaze" was found murdered. His body remained bound to his chair in zip ties. His eyes and mouth were both sewn shut. However, there were thin cut slits that struck vertically over both of his eyes. His mouth though, the stitches extended further from the mouth onto the cuts that made somewhat of a Glasgow smile. Unfortunately, that wasn't the most disgusting thing to happen to him. His back, however, had sustained the most damage. The bones were cut out and twisted out, making him look like he had wings, like a bird or something. It was as if someone put him through blood eagle or something.

And if that wasn't weird enough, a couple pieces of jewelry and his phone were missing, but not the money he had on top of his mostly empty counter. That goes to tell Dalle that the motive definitely wasn't robbery.

"That's the second body we went through today." An officer stated.

"Yeah, I know, something must be up." Dalle inquired as she stared at the clear glass sliding door, pondering the significance of it all. However, her thoughts were interrupted by what looked like the rustling of the back bushes.

 _Probably just a rabbit._ Dalle thought at first, but when she looked closely, the figure was too large to be a rabbit. It was in fact, person sized.

 _A vagrant, then._

She approached the bushes to warn whoever was straying there to leave, that this was an active crime scene, but once Dalle took a closer look at the figure, it was a woman. This woman wore black and leather, and her face was painted up somewhat like a harlequin, except there was a blackbird shape which covered her eyes and nose. One of her eyelids were sewn shut, with a scar striking through it. Her face looked familiar, but Dalle couldn't exactly tell who at the moment. One thing was for certain though, the stolen jewelry and the phone were on her person.

"Freeze!" Dalle ordered. The strange looking woman complied with the order.

"Give me the phone!" She ordered.

"I was done with it anyways." The woman spoke as she handed over the phone.

"Hands behind your back!" Another order.

"Alright." The strange woman sighed in mock defeat as she was handcuffed.

"Why are you so smug?" Dalle demanded.

"We both know how futile this situation is. You cannot stop me from fulfilling my revenge pact as a revenant." The woman answered.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Hell has nothing to do with who or what I am. In the minds of the vengeful and disgruntled, I am but a mere fantasy acting on the urges that a morally bound being such as you wouldn't even _dream_ of. Your law will not bind me from avenging me and Elorah. In fact, law does not apply when you're dead."

With a single jerk of the hands, the woman broke free of the binding of the handcuffs.

"With that, I bid you adieu. But not before imparting a couple words that you may have heard before: When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs!" The woman bowed before disappearing.

Dalle was left dumbstruck by what this woman just said and did.

 _Did she... No, that's not possible, it can't be!_

Many thoughts and scenarios ran though her mind, but every lead just brought up more questions than answers.

"The fuck?" Dalle cursed to herself.

* * *

Elorah walked in the big, empty streets, trying not to get caught by anyone with bad intentions. The white plumaged crow cautiously followed her as well. Something compelled her to walk in this side of town, but it was not yet known what.

At least, until her white crow guide flew to an abandoned place.

 _She was here._ The white crow said.

Elorah had followed, but not before seeing a crow shaped impact crack on the wall. She came closer to it before feeling flashbacks involving her girlfriend hit her mentally. She ran to the abandoned asylum to find her guide, but that didn't help at all. she kept getting flashbacks of her beloved girlfriend fighting off one of the men who killed the both of them.

 _Are you alright?_ The white crow asked. Elorah nodded.

 _What happened?_ She asked.

"I just felt her presence. You're right, she was here, with a black plumaged crow. She had killed him and escaped. Her exit was over there." Elorah answered, pointing to the path where her girlfriend ran.

 _You felt her pain and rage through those flashbacks, didn't you?_ The white crow asked.

"Yes. Is she, well, you know, avenging us?"

 _Yes Elorah. She is._ She answered. _And he is guiding her._

"Who?"

 _The crow on her shoulder._ She answered proudly.

Both Elorah and the white crow exited the abandoned building, knowing where to go next.

* * *

Tallulah pulled up one of her fingerless gloves, and gazed for what seemed to be a long time on the scabbed over, recently inflicted cuts on her arm. They looked infected with red skin surrounding the afflicted areas, the scabs themselves appeared to be laden with a green tinge with fibers from her glove sticking to them. They were sore to the touch when she picked at the crass, bumpy area of the injury.

 _Damn you disease, why can't you just kill me faster?_ She thought.

Unbeknownst to everyone around her but herself, she did in fact have a disease. It affected her blood and her blood flow, but it took such a long time to kill her. It wasn't hereditary, it was simply passed to her by Nemesis herself, when she tried to suck the venom out of the snakebite she inflicted upon herself.

 _Nemesis walked to Tallulah's room because she hadn't gotten out of bed yet, and she was getting increasingly worried about her. She looked peaceful, but when she saw a snake, she started to panic. She threw the snake out of the building, and checked for any bites. Sure enough, there was one on her shoulder._

 _She pulled out her knife and cut open the afflicted area. She put her mouth on the wound and started sucking the venom out, spitting out blood in the process._

 _Tallulah moaned at the pain and the feeling of the other woman's lips on her wound._

 _"Nngh..."_

 _Nemesis heard this and looked up at her._

 _"You're alive!" She exclaimed, blood covering her mouth._

 _"Why did you bother with me?" She asked weakly._

 _"Because you were nice to me." Nemesis answered as she sewed up Tallulah's wound._

 _Silence filled the air for a moment or two._

 _"Do you love me?" Tallulah asked, the cloudiness clearing up._

 _To Nemesis, that question was complex. On finding out her family lineage, it was less than ideal, sometimes she felt like it was betraying her friends who were killed by those people. But, she had to have a friend and supporter somewhere. She loved her as a friend, but she couldn't and wouldn't ever go further than a just that, a friend. But she was sensitive, kind, and endearing._

 _"I love... That you are a very empathetic person." Nemesis answered, trying to answer the question satisfactorily as possible._

 _"Will you.. Have sex with me?" Tallulah asked, the question on her mind finally out in the open._

 _Nemesis thought about it for a while before answering. "Yes."_

Once she found out about the disease, Tallulah kept it a secret to everyone, including her. She couldn't tell Nemesis about the disease, she'd hate herself and want to die. She'd been hoping that the disease would kill her before anyone else did, without success.

 _Ding!_ A text from Blaze. She picked up the phone.

 _Everything will be alright, I promise_

 _-Nemesis_

A smile overcame her senses.

* * *

The gang was dumbstruck by what just appeared on their phones. It was a picture of Blaze, only, his back was cut open, and the bones were twisted out like wings. Along with the disturbing image came this text: _Where is your god now?_

"Shit! First Mastodon, now Blaze? What the fuck are we gonna do, man?" Caliber was panicking now.

"I dunno. But, we have to keep our cool on this." Envy replied.

Jackal nodded in agreement.

"I don't fuckin' know 'bout you guys. But I know what _I'm_ gonna do. I'm getting the hell outta dodge!" He declared, his decision final.

"What? Damian ain't gonna like this one bit. You know that right?" Envy exclaimed.

"Yeah! But I ain't getting killed by... _Her!_ " Caliber said.

"How the fuck do ya know whoever killed them is a her? For all we know, it could be someone from a rival gang trying to fuck with us!" Envy replied.

"It's that bitch we killed last year! She's back from the dead and she's gonna kill us all!" Caliber ranted.

"Okay, this is getting fucking ridiculous. Are you starting to believe that stupid bullshit that Blazey told you 'bout the Eric Draven dude? Cause I'm startin to think Damian might be right." Envy said.

"Be a skeptic all you want bruh, just don't come cryin' to me when she's beatin' the ever living tar out of you." Caliber said as he exited the building.

Envy and Jackal followed him outside as he went to his car.

"At least think about where you're gonna go." Envy despondently said.

"Probably L.A., or Salt Lake City, or somewhere in the Southwest. Anywhere far away from here." Caliber said, hugging his buddies before entering his car.

"I wish you'd realize all it is is just a boogeyman folk tale to scare naughty kids into submission." Envy tried, but deep down knowing, that Caliber made up his mind.

"I'm not staying here while a revenant is trying to kill us." Caliber said.

"Caliber..."

"I'm not staying here while a revenant is trying to kill us."

"Cal.." Envy said, teeth clenched.

"I'M NOT STAYING HERE WHILE A FUCKING REVENANT IS TRYING TO KILL US! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? THAT BITCH IS GONNA TORTURE AND KILL ALL OF YOU 'TILL SHE GETS BORED! You know what? Stay here and die bitches." Caliber finally shouted as he drove off, leaving Envy and Jackal dumbfounded.

"What happened?" Ace suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

"Blaze just got bumped off and Caliber turned tail and chickened the fuck outta here. Dam's just gonna _love_ this." Envy answered, the last sentence laden thick with sarcasm.

"Doesn't matter now. Cal made his choice, and now he's gonna get his due, undead avenger be damned." Ace said, looking out into the distance.

* * *

The Woman in Black, while all by herself, decided to do a little self-reflection. While her young novice was a bit, rash, to say the least, she would readily admit that the woman she is to guide reminded her a lot of her own self as a recently revived revenant.

So much feist, so much rage, so much vengeance yet to be inflicted, and yet, so much regret, regret over things beyond her realm of control. Attempting to rationalize the cruelty of fate herself, looking for someone to take it out on. What if she had been irredeemably evil in a past life? Believing that if Death themself had their way, she'd be immortal while everyone else around her was not. Alas, every human must be mortal, so the next best thing would be to make everyone around her die while she was forced to live and watch them die, only dying because she metaphorically taunted a predatorial beast that would kill anything in its path. The opportunity of coming back from the dead would be an excuse to look for some little slip up so she could be damned to walk the earth forever.

Another alternative could be making a sacrifice so senseless and pathetic that she would be too sinful for Heaven, not evil enough for Hell, she wouldn't even have a place in Purgatory, so she would have no choice but to come back from the dead and walk among the shadows.

That was what it once felt like for her. That was why she could relate to the woman so much.

She had first seen that woman when she was a child, placing flowers on the graves of a young couple who never had a real chance at happiness, much less with each other. In fact, the male half of the couple, over finding out what happened to her, well, we would just say a 'mental breakdown', but that didn't even come close to what happened. The fact that she had chosen to become what he once was did not help matters either. In fact, it made it even worse, so much, that it took several tries to snap him out of his temporary insanity. However, once he regained sanity, he requested that he become a spirit crow to guide her.

Despite many objections, (mainly over him returning in a different form since he had already successfully completed his mission for revenge years ago) this request was granted, under one condition: That she not know who he really is until she herself had successfully completed her own mission.

Many years went by since her own failed attempt at revenge. For this reason, guiding this woman successfully to the right paths was vital for any chance for her to rest in peace again.

* * *

The woman had decided that it was time for a little break before resuming her rampage. After a little hiding, she grabbed Zen and gestured for the crow to follow her as well.

She sat on the seat of Ghost Rider, revved up and rode away on a temporary detour. To be honest, she was reluctant to visit that place. For many reasons, she felt too dirty and tainted to visit that place, with all the bad stuff she did, even though the long dead former occupants, her friends and parent figures, would probably understand that she was too scared for her life to leave earlier. How they probably would have reacted for real was overshadowed by what her anxiety might have thought they would have reacted.

Before she thought about it any further, she reached her intended destination. The large victorian-esque mansionlike building still stood tall. However, it was marred by years and years of disarray and decay. The only vandalism among the structure was a little graffiti and she knew why. Even though she and her late cop friend had made up a plausible, but fake story, made official, the truth had still slipped through the cracks. True, most people (Thinking of Damian) would brush it off as a Halloween ghost superstition, but if they were in her shoes, they would know it was indeed, fact. But, with urban legend came exaggerated stories. A lot of criminals, even the most skeptical and vile ones, would absolutely refuse to set foot in the place for fear _he_ still occupied it and would kill them on sight. Some would say they heard footsteps and that was enough to scare them away.

A little silly, she thought, but at least it was for the most part, untouched. Once she walked at the entrance, it was unboarded and vulnerable.

 _So no one even bothered to barricade it back up._ The woman thought. She semi hoped that it would be, mostly to take longer, but then again, the last time she visited the place as a young girl, the few boards that were on there she could easily take off. It was like they didn't even try. She took a deep breath before attempting to enter the hall. Even then, reluctance and anxiety still had an iron grip on her.

 _I know what you're thinking. It's alright. We-I mean,_ they _will understand._ The crow flew out of nowhere and landed on the woman's shoulder. He bunted his face beside hers, as if to demonstrate comforting. Because of that, her anxiety was replaced by a burning sadness that threatened to erupt into tears. In spite of this, she managed to fight back the urge to cry as she walked up the rickety steps. One stair gave out under her foot and she almost fell through, that even the crow himself was startled, but she managed to pick herself back up and continued to walk up the stairs.

Once she was at the top story, reluctance and fear once again gripped her, but for different reasons. She suddenly remembered her psychometric abilities and how she can regain and attain new memories, and seeing how her friends were murdered in that very place, she was concerned that she would absorb those memories herself. Her own assault and murder as well as that of her girlfriends' was bad enough, to experience _that night_ from their point of view was the _last_ thing she needed.

 _It's alright princess, go on._ The crow encouraged.

Not long after setting foot in the derelict loft, the memories came back, both good and bad. As she looked upon the inward structure, she had seen the erosion of time marring it. The paint and wall paper had either peeled or chipped off. Dust and cobwebs covered the furniture that was still in place after all these years, especially the vanity. The broken mirror on it had most of its looking glass shards missing and the few drawers that remained were bereft of anything. The fireplace had seen better days. The floors creaked under pressure with every step, but did not break. Not yet, at least. The band posters depicting five young men had been faded and crinkled that they looked brittle to the touch. But what caught her attention the most was the circular window. It had been shattered that night, but now, it looked there was no glass left on the broken pane.

The woman idled for what seemed to be a long time, until she heard footsteps. She was on high alert, thinking it was a criminal or vagrant, or maybe even a curious person. A shadow had emerged, but it was too short to be an adult. The little person, albeit reluctantly, emerged from the shadows. It was a little girl, not much older than she herself was when she was young. Her choice of clothing and jewelry was not much different from her own as a youth. Her hair was dark, probably dark brown or black, but it was mid length and shaggy, with red streaking through the front.

Silence was thick between the two females. At least until the child girl spoke out.

"My name' Dusty. D, U, S, T, Y, wha' your?" The little girl said, drool escaping her mouth.

The woman could easily tell that the girl needed special help, more help than what she could possibly offer. Though, to answer the name question, she was unsure of what name to give. Her gang name? She was no longer one of them, and she didn't want to intimidate the girl, her real name? It still felt foreign and far away from her. Should she call herself the Crow? It was kind of vague.

"..." Nothing would come out of the woman's mouth.

"You loo' pre'ey." The girl, named Dusty said, changing the subject.

The woman cracked a smile. "Thanks."

"I li'e your ma'up. I wish' I knew how t'wear my face lik'at." Dusty also said.

The woman smiled. "Where's your mama? Or your daddy? or whoever takes care of you?"

Dusty's brown eyes welled up with tears. "She' gone an' ne'er com' back. Mea' man threw m'out in th'stree', so I liv'ere."

Heartache gripped the woman. What Dusty went through, that was similar to her own childhood. She never knew what happened to her own mother or unborn baby sister, and Damian would never give her the satisfaction of telling her anything... That little girl deserved much better than this, as welcoming as this place used to be, it was no longer a safe place for anyone, much less a disabled kid.

 _The next time I run into Dalle, I'm telling her about this._ She thought.

"Caw!" The crow said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Bir'y!" Dusty exclaimed, pointing to the crow.

The crow flew downwards in front of the girl and did a curtsy like bow at her, which Dusty giggled at. He then walked over to get a stray saucer, once he had it, he walked over to one of the left arch beams which led to the broken window. He placed the saucer on the beam and propped himself on it. As the saucer slid down, so did he. On the steps to the window, he rolled around on the floor, and both Dusty and the woman laughed at his funny antics when he started dancing around. Finally, he flew onto Dusty's shoulder. She lifted her arm, and he perched himself on her forearm. He reached his beak out, and "kissed" the young girl on the nose. He bunted his head against hers and flew back to the woman.

 _She reminds me of you._ The crow said to the woman.

"Meow!" Zen the black cat managed to climb up the steps and find her way in the room.

"Ki''ie!" Dusty said, pointing to the cat.

"Yes, kitty." The woman said. "Would you like to have her?"

Dusty shook her head happily.

"Her name is Zen, but if you wanna name her something else, you are more than welcome to. Also, I have something else for you, if you want it. It used to belong to me when I was your age, but I have no more need for it anymore." The woman reached into her duffel bag and pulled out the skateboard.

"'For me?" Dusty asked.

"For you." The woman answered.

Dusty ran up and hugged the woman.

"Th'ank you, ma'am. Wi' I be ab'e to 'ee you a'ain?" Dusty asked.

"Yes, and you will have a home of your own, I promise." The woman answered, kneeling to dusty's level and wiping the drool from her face.

Dusty gave the woman a kiss on the cheek, and hugged her again.

"Lo' you!" She said.

"Love you too." The woman said with deep sadness as she left the room.

Once she exited, tears flowed out of her eyes, she sat down on the floor and sobbed. The Woman in Black walked up the stairs to sit down with her and hugged her too.

 _It's alright, darling._

* * *

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	6. She's Lost Control

**Author's Note:** The only parts of The Crow I actually own are the videotape, the graphic novel, the soundtrack, a poster, and a tanktop, nothing else.

More **Trigger Warnings:** The (implied) removal of a man's hands, more violence.

* * *

 _ **The Crow: No Rest for the Wicked**_

* * *

"She is a twisted soul, a death ridden woman, haunted by dreams."

\- Arthur Miller, _The Crucible_

* * *

The woman eventually exited the loft to resume her mission. Seeing a young girl like Dusty in such conditions broke her heart in two. She knew exactly that she shouldn't be interfering with the living, but she needed to get to Dalle again. She scoured the area for some type of phone, any phone, as long as it worked and had good enough reception to call Dalle.

 _What do you think you are doing?_ The Woman in Black chided.

"Looking for a phone. What else does it look like?" The woman said.

 _You know the rules. They are set there for a reason! That little child might get her wish and see you again, but after that, she would never see you again! It isn't fair for her!_

"I know that. But, my friend managed to rescue me from a bad man and still reunite with his love." The woman retorted.

 _He was fortunate enough to be allowed to kill that man and rescue you._ The Woman in Black warned. _You will not have that same luxury._

"It is _**just**_ a phone call."

 _To an officer who tried to arrest you and still might have a warrant out for you._

"It's an anonymous phone call."

 _Calls get traced all the time._

"I was brought back here to put the wrong things right, and that's _**exactly**_ , what I'm gonna do, living and dead be damned. Do I still have a desire for revenge? Absolutely. However, Dusty has no one, not even me. If I have Dalle at the very least, come check up on her, that will give me a peace of mind. Besides, have you seen the place? It feels similar to a jenga tower. One loose screw or lost brick due to a bad move, and it could all come crashing down, killing a person. The sooner you let me do this, the sooner I go back to undead routine. I promise."

Defeated for another time, the Woman in Black sighed internally.

 _Alright. One call. There's a phone right over there._ She said, pointing to the payphone.

"Thanks! You are so awesome! Though seriously, I always appreciate your help. Don't ever think I'm ungrateful to you and no, I have _**never**_ lost sight of what I still need to do. That little girl, she reminds me of myself when I was that young. She needs somebody. And if it can't be me, it should _**at least**_ be someone like Dalle, if not her exactly."

The woman walked to the payphone, but not before turning her head and concluding with one final statement. "I have done so many bad things in life. My very own definition of 'Put the wrong things right' kinda differs from others. If I can't do at least one good thing, what's the point?"

The Woman in Black walked over to the woman and hugged her.

 _I just want you to be careful, that's all._

"I know. But I still feel guilty. And I'll be careful. But sometimes, rules gotta bend and sometimes, break."

The crow flew and perched himself on the woman's shoulder and made a warbling sound.

 _You have what these criminals do not: remorse for your actions. No matter what happens, we are here for you._ The crow said to her.

"Thank you guys." The woman said as she lingered in the other undead woman's arms for a seemingly infinite amount of time before hesitatingly letting her go to make the desired phone call.

* * *

Dalle was interrupted from her thoughts by the ringing of her phone going off. The number was an unknown, so it wasn't any of the officers. Still, she felt compelled to answer it and she couldn't figure out why. She albeit hesitantly, swiped the answer button, and put it to her ear, waiting for the voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello? Detective Dalle?" The female voice finally said.

"That's me." Dalle answered.

"When you get the time, can you check out the old, abandoned loft building from downtown? A little girl resides there, and she's all by herself. Her name is Dusty, and she has special needs, so be very patient with her. All I ask, is that you either check up on her, or send someone who can." The voice responded.

"Sure. Where is this building at?" Dalle asked.

"Ummm... 2163... Gold Boulevard... From Cass and Bagley Streets... It's the old white building, three stories high, it has a broken circular window." The voice answered.

"Okay. Anything else?" Dalle said, writing the information down.

"No." The voice answered firmly before abruptly hanging up.

"Hm, that was weird." Dalle said to herself.

She had the feeling that there was something familiar with that voice, but she couldn't for the life of her pinpoint what it was. It was as if she had heard that voice today, yelling something, out of anger, out of sadness, out of... Something. Something about, nobody laughing, something about a hangman or something. Confusion had set in for Dalle and she was needful for some time to mull about it.

 _Might as well go to that place. Maybe it'll trigger some much needed answers._

It was no lie that she hesitated going downtown, what if it was a trick and she was being lured out into trouble? That was how Kristi met her end, but then again, that was why she had her gun to begin with.

Another thing occurred to her, that address was familiar, her superior told her about the last Devil's Night that happened eighteen years ago. Dalle recalled her boss telling her about the couple who lived and died there. The man, shot, stabbed and thrown out of the building, because he walked in on the criminals assaulting his fiancee. A year after, said criminals would later suffer gruesome, but ironic deaths, as did their leader, supposedly by his hands, but legend had it, it was the man himself who had come back from the dead to avenge himself and his lost love. She'd ask if it was true, despite not believing in undeath, but he would neither confirm nor deny it.

"You be the judge of what you wanna believe." He would always say.

Slowly but surely, she started her car back up and drove to her intended destination.

* * *

The crow flew forwards along to follow his mistress. The ride (or fly, in his case) was rather tedious, to say the least. The mission so far, has been all right. It started off a little... difficult, especially with the Mastodon guy, but it was progressing rather smoothly. He was surprised that Blaze took his inevitable death like he did, but then again, for a man who takes a lot of physical pain like him, painful, eviscerating death is a simple piece of cake, even if it was his last.

But still, his undead ward took a rather risky move when she decided to call the detective to let her know what went on in... there. Where he and his loving fiancee used to live. He himself was warned about these rules as well. It was the main reason why he had avoided her so much, only revealing himself because of the stinging accusation of not caring. It was not to say that he himself didn't take a risk by saving her, the evil man who kidnapped her as bait to try and kill him was egotistical enough to admit he was, in fact, the man behind his and his love's deaths. He simply got lucky that time. Seventeen years ago, he once walked these streets in black as well. His thirst for blood fiercer than when he was alive. Once he reunited with the woman he loved so much, it was the most rewarding thing one would ever desire.

He was no idealist, and he certainly knew he couldn't fix things overnight, but he thought that once the bad guys were gone, the city would have at least started to turn out for the better. Oh, how very wrong he was. In fact, the female youth he saved turned out to be in a much worse situation than ever. It did not get any better once she matured into a young woman. Every deed of his rampage, she suffered all the more for it, times ten. She was punished for his mistakes and there was nothing that he could do about it. He could only watch helplessly through eighteen years of the woman being subject to the most ugliest of life's realities, being forced to do bad things against her will, all culminating in her paying for his mistakes, with her life.

To say he had a mental breakdown over all of that was a simple understatement. Do the powers that be hate him so much for defying basic laws of life and death so much, they're willing to take it out on her? It truly felt that way sometimes, especially when one sees the years of pain and suffering etched onto her face. All he wanted was to give her a hug, comfort her, soothe her pain, but now he was just a mere bird, not able to reveal himself as her friend.

Finding out that once she had the decision, she chose to become what he once was a long time ago, helped no matters in the slightest. Being a guide to her, even if discreetly, was the least he could do.

* * *

Elorah stopped to scavenge the now empty crime scene of a house that one of the lowlifes used to live in before he, well.. died. She tore the crime scene tape as if it was just annoying paper strips. The door wasn't locked at all, which was surprising, but at the same time, not.

Elorah sensed the hostile energies, still heavy, still present, still raw. Energies so intense, the white crow would not dare to enter without hurt. Hatred and vengeance still looming over like the shadows in a nightmare. The foreign memories her psyche picked up, still fresh in mind. The man, enduring a more gruesome fate than the last one before him. It was very clear that her girlfriend was in that house before narrowly avoiding arrest.

The one thing that troubled the young lost soul, however, was not her girlfriend's... rather interesting choice of disguise, or even choosing to come back from the dead, it was the unknown side of her girlfriend that she had never witnessed, not that she had any reason to anyways, but still, borderline scary enthusiasm to kill another living being, even if said being killed them both first.

 _I know what you are thinking, my Elorah. You are thinking of what you just witnessed in picking up these 'flashes', thinking 'This is not her. She is not the calm and collected and compassionate girl I know', Elorah, you have to understand, it is very much difficult for her as it is on you. I would know. Witnessing the man I dearly beloved singlehandedly slaughter the cruel men who killed us both, and with a hidden, rageous side that I never witnessed myself, that man who painted his face and hunted down every miscreant with such fervor, such wanton. It nearly frightened me, but it was just as much my fervor and wanton as it was his. Once his duty was complete, he was no different than he was in life. Your girlfriend, is just doing right now, what your fa- I mean, my fiancee did years ago. I suppose I should have seen coming that she would someday become, like he was. Especially since he visited her in death._ The white crow spoke to Elorah.

Elorah turned to the white crow. "You.. knew my girlfriend?"

 _Yes, I did. And so did he. We both took her in when she was a young girl, when her own mother could not be bothered with her._ The white crow answered.

"Well, she did tell me that she was watched over by two people when she was young until their deaths." Elorah said. "Why didn't you bother telling me?"

 _You never bothered to ask._ The white crow said.

"And the dark feathered crow following her. Was that the man who avenged you?"

 _Yes, dear._

"I'm gonna ask one question. Do you hate her?"

The white crow was dumbstruck by the rather, dark and slightly accusatory question. _Why would you, or she, for that matter, think we- I mean, I would ever do that?_

"Because she did bad things to innocent people. She was forced to anyways." Elorah answered in earnest.

 _Darling, I would never hate her for ending up in a situation that is well beyond her control. All her life was about one thing: Survival, until fate decided that surviving was all she was doing. So it brought you to her._

"That's so sad." Elorah lamented.

 _It's alright. You've made her so happy in her last months of life. Anyways... What is your next course of action?_ The white crow said.

"We go to my sister Sabriel. I've been away from her for so long that I want to pay a visit." Elorah responded as she and the white crow exited the voided slum.

* * *

This was one of the few nights that Sabriel could not sleep, no matter how much she tried. Too many thoughts ran through her head all at once, and not very pleasant ones as well. She broke down and got up out of bed to pull out her medicine box. Once opened, she took out a big bottle of generic brand sleeping pills and took two of them out before going out into the kitchen to pour herself something noncaffeinated to help with taking them.

All of a sudden, she heard the sound of what seemed to be the sliding of something glass opening.

"Who's there?" Sabriel turned around to see any potential intruders. No response. She then turned around to pour the rest of her drink in a clear glass before putting the drink back in the refrigerator. However, the rustling had returned again.

Sabriel put her drink down and tiptoed carefully into the source of where the noise was: her bedroom. She thought she was going to have to get her pepper spray, but upon closer inspection, she could see what appeared to be a young woman in a simple, but scraped together, white gown. What looked like a shawl was hooding her head full of dark hair, like a roman toga. One of her eyes was stitched closed, and vertically scarred. She was accompanied by a bird with white plumage, what looked like a dove, but actually wasn't. It was too big and gaunt looking and it let out a "Caw!"

Sabriel stared at the woman and bird for what seemed like forever until the first word that came out of the angelic like woman's mouth was this:

"Sabriel.."

"Elorah?" Sabriel replied.

Before anything else could be said, Elorah reached out her hands to touch Sabriel's face, and with that touch, came all the worst memories and flashbacks. What Sabriel saw was nothing short of ghastly or terrifying. The pain, the fright, the horror, the madness, all from Elorah's point of view, as well as her girlfriend's would have driven anyone, even her to insanity, had it not been that Elorah abruptly retracted her hands away. Sabriel collapsed on the floor in a sobbing heap, traumatized by the ungodly amount of evil the bad men had imposed on them both.

"I'm... Sorry..." Sabriel managed to say in her tears.

 _It's quite alright, Sabriel, my darling._ Another voice said.

"Who said that?" Sabriel asked.

"The white crow, who's been following me for the last few hours is speaking directly to you." Elorah answered.

"Huh?" The answer was brought with even more questions.

"I know, it's complicated. But you'll understand in time." Elorah explained the best she could to her older sister.

"Well, first off, why did you... Do what you just did to me?" Sabriel asked.

"Because somehow I knew you'd be blaming her for our deaths. I needed to set the record straight."

"But why did you come to me only right now? Why didn't you come to me earlier?"

"I'm undead. Living and undead don't just coexist. And besides, when all this is over, I _will_ have to go back."

"What do you mean 'When all this is over?'"

"I have to find my girlfriend. She is currently avenging us both, killing the men who hurt us both."

"So it _was_ her I was talking to."

"You saw her?" Elorah was surprised.

"Yes, she saved me from a mugging, and I responded by being a bitch to her. I feel really bad now. Look, Elorah, I'm sorry for hating on her unfairly when most of it wasn't even her fault."

"And yet you did."

"I hated because I was afraid. Afraid that she would replace me as the one who cares for you. Afraid that something bad would happen to you and I cannot do a damn thing about it. Afraid... that I would lose you."

"You never lost me, Sabriel. I was just away for a while."

"So you'll have to leave me all over again, do you?"

 _She never left you, and she never will. Keep her in your heart, and she will never die._ The white crow assured Sabriel.

"Let me help you find her. It's the least I can do before we have to say our farewells." Sabriel insisted.

"Alright." Elorah sighed.

With that, Sabriel went to get dressed for another night in the down town.

* * *

The gang, or rather yet, what was left of it, waited in dread as their leader mulled on his decision whether to find and execute the now rogue Caliber, or allow whoever was killing off his men to do the deed. Though Dolph had insisted that whoever they were, she was a woman, Damian didn't come to conclusion just yet.

All suspense came to a halt once Damian emerged with his final decision on the matter.

"What's up?" Envy asked.

"Well, for starters, I've thought long and hard about what to do with our new defector." Damian answered.

"Then what's your final answer?"

"I've decided we are going to wait it out for a while. If he dies by her hands, then that's a cause for concern. You'll find out when you get a text, like you guys always do. Meanwhile, the rest of you guys will stay on guard. I called in some reinforcements to hunt this bitch down. Meanwhile, what little Leviathan knows, will not hurt."

"Sooo... We tell this Leviathan dude everything's peachy keen?" Envy asked matter of factly.

"Exactly. When Leviathan calls any of you, you respond with this: 'Just a few roadblocks sir, but everything's progressing the way they should be.' If Leviathan finds out about what happened, it'll be our heads rolling. Alright?" Damian warned.

"Alright." Envy answered, to Damian's satisfaction.

Ace nodded in kind.

Meanwhile, Jackal appeared with a package in hand.

"What's this?" Damian asked Jackal, to which he simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Let's open it, we'll find out then-" Envy said before being interrupted.

"Hold it! It could be a bomb or something. You know we also have enemies here." Ace warned.

"Why don't we shake it then?" Envy sarcastically said.

"Because if it is a bomb, we could aggravate it even more." Ace answered.

"I say we open it carefully." Damian suggested as he pulled out a dagger like letter opener and cut at the tape.

Once the sticky barrier was no more, the flaps of the box were opened carefully. Inside, there was a note at the top of something white, round and dense, greeting the men with its short script.

 _Remember Jaguaro?_

 _-The Crow_

Ace carefully picked up the round object and turned it around, only to see it was a skull.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Envy exclaimed, obviously terrified at the implied threat.

Damian however, reacted with disgust and annoyance.

"We are not letting a single bone scare us silly. Ace, dispose of that thing." Damian ordered as he turned to his quarters.

* * *

Caliber had the misfortune of having his car break down mid-getaway, leaving him desperate for other methods of transportation. Unfortunately, in the middle of nowhere, the only other mode of getting somewhere was by foot, which was both irritating and distressing. And that was especially when getting away has never failed him before.

"You goddamn cheapass piece of fucking shit car!" Caliber yelled as he tried to scrimp and scrape every last bit of life that car did _not_ have by slamming down on the brakes.

"AAARGHH!" He screamed in frustrating defeat.

He then decided he needed to get out of the godforsaken clunker and escape by foot for now. As he got out, he contemplated the reason why he ever joined that band of douche bags in the first place. It was because he needed some strong arm for the ladies. By himself, he was nothing, if not pathetic. With eleven failed relationships, it didn't seem fair to him. Every guy that he knew had bagged themselves with a girl or at least scored with one. All except for him, and that pissed him off to no end. When that Nemesis girl was alive, she had become an out let for his frustrations with personal injustices, both physical and sexual. Overtime, she had learned to fight back against him. She had to.

Nemesis was a woman Caliber both liked and hated. Liked for the immense pleasure her body gave him, hated for everything her mind denied him. He knew that he could never find a girl like her again, unless she somehow came back from the dead.

The musings which sidetracked his mind were rudely interrupted by a crow.

"Caw!" The crow belted out loudly and angrily, but if Caliber knew that bird any better, he would have been able to tell that corvid hated him with a passion.

"The fuck do you want, bird?" Caliber screeched to the crow.

"Hey baby!" A woman's voice flirted in mock sexy tone.

Caliber turned around to see a woman dressed all in black clothing. Her face was painted white with messy black crow wings shading her eyes, with the "beak" adorning her forehead, and the "tail", adorning her nose. Two vertical black lines struck through those winged eyes like a Greek theater mask. Her lips were painted black with two lines extending into a glasgow smile, but in reality, she was the furthest thing from happy. The dark contour of her cheeks giving off the look of ghoulishness.

"Babe, you wear waaaaayyy too much make up for my tastes. And furthermore, leather ain't a turn on for me." Caliber remarked about her face and wardrobe.

The woman responded by punching Caliber in the face, causing him to fall over backwards on his back.

"Goddamn, bitch! You fucked up my nose!" Caliber shouted as he got up and wiped the blood from his face. He started to charge towards the woman, only to be met with a kick in the groin area.

Caliber hunched over in pain. "God, you're quite a rude bitch."

"Don't you use any other names besides 'bitch'?" The woman quipped.

"Who the fuck are you to care what I say?" Caliber snapped.

"I just thought you needed to expand your dictionary, is all." The woman quipped.

"I'll show you expansion! Expansion of your face and cunt once I'm done with you!" He shouted as he punched the woman in the face, causing her to stumble backwards a little.

However, the woman only giggled at him. He watched in surprise, disgust, and uncertainty as the blood that oozed down her nose onto her lips seeped right back into her nostrils.

"Who, or better yet, what the fuck are you?" He asked in slight panic.

"Honestly, I wish I were dead. Weeping many tears, she left me and said, 'Alas, how terribly we suffer, Sappho, I really leave you against my will'."

Caliber was dumbstruck by what this woman just said. Nonetheless, she continued talking.

"And I answered, 'Farewell, go and remember me. You know how we cared for you.'"

"What the fuck are you saying?" His panic level was starting to rise.

She continued in her grief. "If not, I remind you... Of our wonderful times."

Caliber started to run away from the woman, but she gave chase.

"Get the fuck away from me!" He screamed.

"Why the fuck should I? When I did that, you never listened to me." She spat venomously.

 _The woman's shirt was ripped open as she screamed for anyone to come for her._

 _Caliber slapped her in the face, cutting her lower lip. "Shut up, bitch!"_

 _She struck his face and broke his nose, stunning him for a little bit while she tried to crawl away to get to Elorah as fast as she could. Caliber grabbed a fist sized stone and struck her in the head twice, stunning her temporarily._

Putting two and two together, Caliber came to one conclusion. "You, you killed Mastodon and Blaze, didn't you! You're Nemesis, aren't you?"

"Nemesis died when you killed me and my girlfriend, Caliber."

The woman drew out her katana and grabbed Caliber's hands.

"Look, I didn't want to, but we had no choice. Damian don't like defectors, you know that." He pleaded, obviously trying to talk his way out of death, but both knew it was inevitable.

"When you lie dead, no one will remember you, for you have no share in the Muses' roses. No, flitting aimlessly about, you will wildly roam, a shade amidst the shadowy dead."

With that, the woman dealt the killing blow.

* * *

Dusty gazed for a long while at Zen, one of the gifts she was given by the mysterious, but beautiful, harlequin woman. The cat lay rested on her lap, looking back up at her new owner.

"Meow!" Zen said.

Dusty smiled at the animal curled up on her.

"Ni'e ki'ty." Dusty spoke to Zen.

The long haired black cat responded with bunting her head against the young girl's arm repeatedly, as if it were a gesture of gratitude. Dusty reached her hand out to stroke the back of her new pet cat, which Zen willingly welcomed. Sure, Zen was a little nervous, even frightened, by the disabled youth at first. After a while, when it was made clear that this girl meant no harm, the cat warmed up to Dusty. But still, she missed the painted faced woman.

"I' 'now, I mi'th th' pre'ty hara'kin 'ady 'oo." Dusty remarked.

The girl then laid her back down and relaxed on the long forgotten antique couch. She would have preferred a nice, warm bed, but the only existing bed in the place she stayed at was broken, rickety, the mattress was eaten up by only God knows what, and to top it all off, she felt uneasy being near the contraption. It was as if the energies that which most likely belonged to the victim long since dead lingered on to stave the child away. Regardless, the couch was a much better place to lay down at.

Suddenly, there was a bit of knocking on the door. Dusty did not dare answer the door in fear of the intruder being a predatory criminal with horrendous intentions. The knocking appeared again, this time, with a voice following.

"Dusty? Are you there? It's Detective Dalle." The voice from the other side of the doorway called. Dusty did not dare answer the woman's calling either, for the harlequin woman promised to see her just one more time, and the fear of being taken away from her safe haven in favor of having to live with a family not as kind as her own made her quiver with dread. The door then creaked with its rotation, and footsteps were heard with each click and creak. Dusty frantically scanned for a hiding place where this "Detective Dalle" will not be able to find her, eventually settling for the extended closet where an unknown man's clothing hung forgotten and moth eaten.

"Hello?" The woman, calling herself "Dalle" called again.

Again, Dusty stayed silent and still, not daring to utter a peep. Her heart was pounding at abrupt speed. The fact that she was on the brink of having a meltdown did not help matters either. Her heart was pounding against her chest as each step from this stranger grew louder and louder.

"Dusty?" Dalle called one more time.

It was too late. Dusty's meltdown already erupted.

"AHHH! AAAHHH!"

Dalle opened the closet where the crying and screaming was coming from. Dusty was thrashing her hands around to try and bat away Dalle, however, she did not budge, despite getting scratched in the process.

"Shhh... Shhhhh..." Dalle soothed the girl, whose fits were just softened down to crying now.

"Maaa..Maaaa!" Dusty cried out.

"You're safe Dusty." Dalle assured her.

"'Ow 'o you kno' m'ame?" She asked, sniffling while drool was coming out of her mouth.

"How do I know your name?" Dalle asked, repeating what the girl said, for clarification.

Dusty nodded.

"I got a phone call from someone who said you were here, and they told me to check up on you."

"Ple' don'ake m'way! Hara'kin 'a'y wan'see me one m'ime. Sh' ga'me a ki'ty! I do'wanna losit!" Dusty pleaded, motioning the black cat by her side.

 _Harakin?_ Dalle thought, listening carefully to the disabled child. _What the hell is a harakin?_ Back to the matter at hand, Dalle was required to report this to CPS. A child like Dusty should not be residing in a condemned building, there were plenty of hazards surrounding the place. But if Dusty reacted the way she did at Dalle, there's no telling how she would react to a social worker. Only a fool would leave a child to this condition.

 _Wait, fool? Harakin? Harlequin!_ Dalle suddenly realized. But when she came to the realization, the first face that came to mind was the one she had seen from Blaze's murder scene. Her face was painted similar to one. True, it could be a coincedence, but seriously, how many people skulked around wearing _that_ kind of face paint?

Dalle then turned to Dusty. "I'll tell you what. You can stay here for that last meeting with the harlequin lady while I think about what to do. I will make sure you don't lose your cat. I'm sorry for frightening you."

Dusty smiled. "Thank'ou."

Dalle turned to exit the building after.

* * *

Damian held the phone to his ear, waiting for an answer from Leviathan. The phone's dull beep lingered for what seemed to be minutes and maybe even longer. It was two A.M. in the morning and his men have since gone to their homes to sleep. He hated when Leviathan scheduled calls at outlandish hours. He always said it was 'So no one else got wind of anything'. On an outside perspective, it would be understandable, but when one is taking said calls, which always interrupted his sleeping patterns, mind you, he'd love nothing more than violent retribution.

Unfortunately, Damian worked for this guy for years, despite not knowing who or what he is, killing him is not an option, much less a wise one at that. He was eternally indebted to the mystery that was Leviathan for getting him out of the mental and financial slump he was in. Not that Damian wasn't grateful, but one sticky situation had led to another, and he feared there was no getting out of this one. Nonetheless, he was obligated to do this one thing.

"Hello, Damian." The voice at the other end finally spoke.

"Hello." He gritted his teeth, struggling to restrain the rage within himself.

"Something... Upsets you?" Leviathan inquired.

 _Christ! How did he know?_ Damian thought in both sarcastic and serious thought.

"You.. Noticed?" Damian tried to mentally push down his violent thinking, with little success.

"Your strained voice gives off the impression of a tethered feral animal wanton to wreak havoc. That to me is a cause for concern." Leviathan chided.

 _A real cause for concern is my men keep dying or leaving. Everything and everyone keep disappearing like a rabbit in a magician's hat. I also think my wife is planning on leaving me too._ Damian bit back every word that threatened to erupt from his mouth.

"Hello? Am I still talking to anyone?" His mindset was interrupted.

"Sorry, I got distracted by something." Damian replied.

"I see. I guess I should hang up so you can resolve your 'distraction'. I want to see you at your best to the morrow." Leviathan said.

"Thank you." Damian said with relief.

"Goodbye Damian. Remember, everything is on you." Leviathan said before hanging up.

When the phone disconnected, Damian breathed a sigh of relief, that is, until then.

"Boss!" Envy alarmingly shouted.

"WHAT?" Damian yelled out loud.

"Remember Caliber?" Envy asked.

"No, Envy, I had completely forgotten about our defector. Care to clue me in?" Damian sarcastically stated.

"Well, he's scraggly looking-"

"I was being sarcastic, Envy!"

Envy tried his best to ignore that remark. "Anyways, we recently got a text with Caliber's picture on it. He's dead."

Damian gasped with shock as he saw what was on there.

"Dearly departed!"

* * *

Tallulah walked towards the room where Damian liked to relax. She knew he wasn't there so she would sneak in the secret roomway it harbored for a few choice words with the occupant. She had to be quick about it so she chose her words and timing carefully.

She walked the three big steps before taking a key she had stolen a long time ago and unlocking the padded lock before her. She opened the door to an undead man on life support.

"Hello." It disgusted her to the very core of her being to even _think_ about saying the second word coming out of her mouth, but she forced herself to say it anyways. "F..Father."

"That's more like it... Lavinia." He said with equal amount of vitriol.

 _Lavinia... I haven't heard that name in years._ She thought bitterly.

It was the truth, her name was... Well still is, Lavinia, but it was changed, not only at the insistence of Damian, but the people who shared her blood were killed by unknown means eighteen years ago, "It was for the best," He said..

Actually one of them. The other is in front of her right now, wasting away on his bed, the tubes connected to the machines the only thing keeping him alive. She could sense the misery leering behind that proud sneer.

"I'm leaving." She said.

He chuckled.

"What's funny?"

"You always fuckin' say that! And you never go through with it! That's what's funny!"

"No one tells me what I can or can't do!" She stamped her foot.

"I'm not tellin' ya! I'm just sayin', Do what ever the fuck you have to, just don't get your ass lost in a world you don't know."

"I'll find a way." She said defiantly.

"Sure ya will.. And then, you'll be somebody else's bitch." He chuckled again.

She simply glared at him.

"What I'm sayin' is, you really think you're cut out for _that_ kinda life? If ya ask me, that girl was the absolute worst thing ever happened to ya. She shouldn't have even been in the gang in very first place! And 'bout that crush you had on her, she ain't never gonna like you back! Not after what I did to her adult friends!"

"You don't know anything about her!" She snapped.

"I know that it's really her that's killin' off Damian's men. Don't expect anything 'cuz she didn't come back for ya. She can't even be your friend anymore 'cause you're alive."

"Waste away, fucker!" Were the last words coming from the young woman's mouth before storming out.

Deep down, she knew he was right. Where would she go? Who would she turn to?

She did not know what to do, where to go, who to turn to now, but she knew one thing had to be done: She had to leave on her own, and as soon as possible.

* * *

 _ **To Be Continued...**_

* * *

Happy Belated Halloween! Don't forget to read and review!


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